


Milk Run

by Teland



Series: A space at the fire [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Blood Drinking, Cuddling/Snuggling, F/M, Face Slapping, First Time, Genital Torture, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Heavy BDSM, Improvised Sex Toys, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Magic, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Magic, Telepathy, Whipping, polyamory negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: Jason grins... wickedly. "Would you like to live dangerously, Treville?"





	1. There *are* other things Jason could've said that would've been just as likely to drag Treville up those stairs, but most of those things involve mouthy underage sex workers.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naughtypixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtypixie/gifts), [the_Jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Jack/gifts).

> Disclaimers: I'm still me, they're still them.
> 
> Spoilers/Timeline: There is not one single spoiler in this thing, unless you count the *wildly* AU-ized ones for Jason Blood's backstory. Takes place a good decade or so pre-series.
> 
> Author's Note: Another one I started a good, long while ago. Apparently, now is the time on Sprockets when we finally finish our aging WIPs.
> 
> Acknowledgments: Much, much love to the usual suspects, of course, but especially to my Pixie, who made this into the story I actually *wanted* it to be, and to my Jack, who then made it legible, despite my best efforts to the contrary.

Treville *hates* this kind of mission. 

Hates them with a passion that goes right down to — well. 

Right now, he's sitting in a perfectly quiet, perfectly respectable, perfectly *everything* tavern in Nice, waiting on a courier who has, in his turn, been waiting on one of their spies. 

The courier will have any number of important documents for him, and Treville will be hurrying those documents *right* back to Laurent in Paris. 

This is important. 

This will save lives — and *end* the lives of all sorts of enemies to the French Crown. 

This is *important*. 

This is... boring as *shit*. 

*Because* there would be no direct meeting with any of the spies, *because* there was not one sign that the courier would need an escort, *because* this entire mission, as important as it is, is really as safe as safe can *be*... 

Laurent could only spare *him* for it. 

Not the rest of his unit. 

Not his *brothers*, who are, even now, almost certainly rounding out one of the other units on a far more respectable mission and — it's possible that Treville is whining. 

He drinks more wine. *Just* wine — he's technically working. 

In this quiet, peaceful inn. 

All alone. 

Bored out of his *skull* — 

Stuck here for what could be *days*, yet — days until he can officially consider the courier missing and call the mission a failure. 

It's possible that he shouldn't have encouraged Kitos and Reynard to go drinking with him *four* nights in a row — 

It's *probable* that he shouldn't have taken his role of meneur quite that *seriously* — 

Quite that — 

But they had been eager for it from him. They had — drunk it right down with all the spirits. They had pulled him close and *cheered*, looked so hopeful, so *happy* — 

There had been so many caresses — 

So many cuddles and — 

And kisses from Reynard. Bright and quick and sharp and wet — 

And sometimes not so quick. 

Treville licks his lips. 

They'd been waiting for this from him. They'd been — missing it, while he searched and searched for his Amina-love, and then, after she was dead, for his son. 

Treville shivers. 

He hasn't given up on that, and he won't. His son is alive — he can feel him every second of every minute of every day — but last Monday Ife had told him that she'd finished analyzing the last of the enchantments that had been on his Amina-love's body — 

She'd finished.

And there was no new information. Nothing new for the dog in him to sink his teeth into for a new hunt — a better hunt. 

He hadn't wept with Ife — sometimes he wonders if he's capable of that, anymore — but he'd held her in his arms while all of her familiars had howled and yowled and crooned and cried.

And then he'd left. 

And then he'd collected his brothers. 

And then... well. 

In truth, he'd forced Laurent to yank his lead. 

To *remind* him of who he is — and who he *must* be. But... 

He could use his brothers right now. 

He could use *Laurent* right now. 

He'd tell him that it doesn't feel important.

He'd tell him that the world starts crumbling around you when you lose your family — and crumbles like a pile of *ash* when you lose hope. 

Treville smiles bitterly into his tumbler. 

Laurent, he'd say, now isn't the time to give me time to *think*. 

This... maybe wasn't the best *way* to yank his lead...

Treville squeezes his eyes shut and — no, no. He's still a *soldier*. 

He scans the tavern, notes a compact man coming down the stairs from the inn, notes a group of drunks at one of the tables getting louder as the day progresses, notes the maids looking on with contempt, notes the owner sighing in resigned exhaustion, notes a group of merchants walking in — successful enough, by their clothes. 

The blonde maid — Giselle — gets the merchants seated and served, while the younger, chestnut-haired one whose name Treville hadn't caught, yet, gravitates to the oddly *anonymous*-feeling compact man. 

That — 

There's something about — 

But, just then, the drunks get rowdier, complaining about the loss of the chestnut maid's attentions. 

She grits her teeth and ignores them — 

The compact man smiles and jokes with her — 

She smiles back — 

And the drunks get up, raggedly as one, and move in to, probably, beat the compact man at least *nearly* to death. 

Who even knows what they'll do to the maid. 

Treville gets up and moves between their tables. 

"Who the bloody hell are you?!" 

Treville pulls his blade quickly, neatly, and just a little showily — and rests it against the lead drunk's throat. 

He grunts and rears back — 

"Lieutenant Jean-Armand du Peyrer de Tréville of the King's Musketeers. You boys already knew the last part of that. You *also* know that the *best* thing you can do for yourselves, right now, is to sit right back down." 

"You can't take all of us!" That from the youngest of the drunks, a boy of sixteen or seventeen who wouldn't be at all hard on the eyes if it wasn't for his obvious idiocy. 

Treville just smiles. 

One of the boy's mates gives him a *hard* smack to the head — 

"*Ow* —" 

"Shut *up*, Albain," the man says, and yanks the boy back to their table. The others follow — though the lead drunk never once takes his eyes off Treville's blade. 

Smart man. 

Treville puts up his blade and starts to go back to his own table — but the chestnut-haired maid puts a generously-filled brandy in his hand and gives him a warm smile. 

"There's no need —" 

"We — all — disagree," she says, and smiles more broadly. "I'm Doriane, and you should know that if you need anything... well." 

Treville grins and tips his hat with his free hand. "Good to know, Doriane, but —" 

"*But*... this is from Monsieur Blood." And she nods to the compact man, who is giving him a warmly wry smile — and an inviting one. 

"I —" 

And the invitation gets a lot more interesting when, just as Doriane turns to a summons from Giselle, *Blood's* eyes flare just as red as red can be. 

Well, then. 

That would explain the anonymous look to him — he's glamoured from head to toe, and more powerfully so than Treville has seen... ever. 

Treville hums and raises his glass to Doriane, who's back to smiling at him from very, very close. "I'll be joining Monsieur Blood for the time being." 

She grins, showing off a dimple. "Of course, sir."

She returns to her duties — 

And Treville moves to Blood's — and what sort of name *is* that? — table. He takes the seat across from the man, which will give them *both* excellent peripheral views of the drunks — 

And Blood is drinking the same brandy he'd sent over, though, like Treville, he'd started with wine.

Treville raises an eyebrow. 

"You seemed like a man worth celebrating," Blood says, and his accent is — British. Educated. Just a little... lush. And, with the words themselves, a different kind of inviting. 

Treville laughs quietly. "Did I, then...?" And he offers the man his hand. "You already know my name —" 

"But not what you prefer to be called," Blood says, and grips Treville's hand firmly. "My name is *Jason* Blood, and I'm rather fond of my first name." 

Treville smiles. "Right, then. I *loathe* my first name — call me Treville, Jason." 

Jason dips his head agreeably — and cocks his head to the side. His hair is long — or is that glamour, too?

Treville tries to *see*...

Jason laughs. "You're not the right *sort* of mage to be able to see through *this* glamour, Treville," he says, pitching his voice to carry not at all. 

"Well, *that's* frustrating." 

"Terribly sorry —" 

"*Why* are you glamoured that strongly?" 

"Force of habit, to be perfectly honest. I'm used to having far more enemies on this side of the Channel." 

Treville blinks. That was an *honest* answer — he could all but *taste* it — but...

"That was... odd, yes?" 

"Frankly? Yes." 

Jason strokes the rim of his tumbler. "I'm older than I look." 

"And sound?" 

Jason laughs *hard* — "Oh — much older than that." 

"Jason —"

And the anonymously blue eyes that had been in that face are, abruptly, a reddish-brown — 

And wide — 

"I don't see any wrinkles." 

"I stopped aging *physically* when I was twenty-one," he says, and there was... something....

"Something tells me that wasn't five years ago. Or even fifty." 

The glamour fades from the blunt, square hand on the bottle of brandy, and Jason lifts the thing in long, spidery fingers which still look very, very strong. "Might I invite you up to my room for an hour or two...?"

Well. Treville tries on a smile. "For conversation, Jason?" 

Jason makes a face. "You were having much more fun a moment ago, Treville." 

And that's... true. Treville shakes his head. "I'm here on business. I'm waiting for someone." 

"And so you must stay in this common room... hmm."

"Mm?" 

Jason grins... wickedly. "Would you like to live dangerously, Treville?" 

Treville blinks — but Fearless is rising in him, the *meneur* is rising in him — 

Wanting and growling in him — 

"I —" 

"I think you would..." 

"Jason —" 

"I think you'd like to *play* today... as opposed to *just* working." 

Treville coughs a laugh. "Of bloody course I would — speak plain." 

"Were you to give me a *taste* of your blood —" 

"Oh, shit —" Treville laughs — 

"I could make it so that anyone — anyone — looking for you in, say, a five-mile radius would alert you of their presence. Whether or not they *wanted* to. 

Treville *stops* laughing — and licks his teeth. 

"Yes...?" 

"I could smell the blood-magery on you." 

"I imagine so —" 

"I can smell other kinds of magery on you, too. But they're... hidden," Treville says. "I'm not fond of that right now." 

Jason inclines his head. "Shadow-magery — it's *most* of what's making this glamour impenetrable to you." 

Treville grunts and nods. "And what else?" 

"Fire. A demon owns half my soul —" 

"What —" 

"It's a rather long story. The short version is that a relationship I was in as a young man went *spectacularly* badly. She tried to *sacrifice* me, and use me as the *grease* to *summon* a powerful fire-demon, who would then be subject to her will. Etrigan and I made common cause, instead," Jason says, and looks at him steadily with those reddish-brown eyes. He — 

"There's a *lot* there you didn't say." 

"Yes." 

"How much of it is relevant to what we may or may not get up to today?" 

Jason smiles, bright and... sweet. "Absolutely none of it." 

Treville nods and licks his lips. But, really... there's only one way this is going. "Jason... I only do one kind of blood-magic with people I *like*." And Treville lifts his eyebrows. 

Jason blinks. "And what is that...?"

"Share with me. Live dangerously *with* me. *Play* with me." 

"I... Treville —" 

Treville holds up a hand. "You're about to say that it wouldn't be an equal trade. That you're too powerful a blood-mage for it to *ever* be an equal trade." 

"In a word? Yes." 

"It doesn't have to be equal," Treville says, leaning in and grinning — just a little wildly. And probably more than a little doggishly. "It just has to give me a little taste — a little touch — of the man who's going to have so much of *me*."

Jason makes a small sound — 

Treville raises his eyebrows — 

"You may find that you don't *wish* to have me so —" 

"Jason," Treville chides. "Are we living dangerously or not...?"

Jason *grunts*. "I... have never been able to resist earth-mages who want to dally with *me*." 

"Well, that's a fixation we need to explore in depth — how full is that bottle?" 

"Not *nearly* full enough for a soldier," Jason says, and calls for another as they stand.

Doriane brings it with a worried look. "You're leaving?" 

"For now, Doriane," Jason says. "Though... I don't think you'll have to worry about your rowdier custom..." 

Treville blinks and looks — the drunks are all either asleep or in the process of dozing off. 

"Perhaps the stableboys could help roll them into the gutter...?"

Doriane makes a gleeful noise and runs off immediately. 

"Nice trick, that," Treville says quietly as he follows Jason up the stairs. 

"More shadow-magery. I've been smothering them subtly for the last five minutes or so." 

Treville *snorts*. "I like you."

Jason grins at him. "I rather feel the same about you —" 

"And you didn't need one bit of *my* help today." 

"Mm, well..." 

"You didn't." 

"No," Jason says, and laughs quietly. "But I loved that you offered it without a second thought — or a thought toward reward. You didn't give me a *chance* to *decide* how to defend myself!" 

"I —" 

And Jason laughs a little harder. "Are you always like that? Are all Musketeers?" 

Well... "Most of us were recruited by the single most *honourable* man on the face of the earth, Jason. Make of that what you will." 

"*Really*." 

"Yes." 

"And yet..." And Jason looks Treville up and down as they walk down the hall. The question is clear. 

"Captain Laurent d'Achille de la Fère believes that his men should have just as much recreation as they *desire* to have — so long as it hurts no one who doesn't deserve to be hurt — when it's *time* for it." 

"I think I'm in love," Jason says, and opens room four with his key — 

Gestures Treville inside — 

Locks the door *behind* them — but not in any way Treville couldn't break down easily if he needed to. Considerate, that. 

Still — "Have you also always loved soldiers, Jason?" 

Jason grins — and drops his glamour, revealing himself to be a handsome, compact, broad-shouldered man wearing wool and bloody *chainmail* — 

It's *glowing* — 

The glow is a sickly reddish-orange that makes Treville simultaneously want to *wrench* his gaze away and *never* look away, never turn his *back* — 

And. 

There's a bastard sword on his back. An actual *bastard* sword — 

*It's* glowing, too — 

The glow is *subtly* different — but still entirely awful. 

Jason laughs ruefully. "I spend my life at war with... rather powerful beings. I arm and armour myself accordingly," he says, and — changes. 

Drops his mail and his sword and — 

Treville doesn't know. 

He can't, for long moments, tell if Jason had glamoured himself again — this time into the clothes of an *unarmed* wealthy merchant — or if he'd somehow managed to change clothes. 

Treville lifts his nose, opens his senses — 

He can't *feel* glamour, but... 

Jason *smiles* ruefully. "I am no longer glamoured, Treville. I used the shadow-magery to help me remove my armour and weapons at speed." 

Treville grunts. "I could use that trick," he says, and moves close, deliberately tossing caution aside — 

"Treville... you don't need to —" 

"Shh," Treville says, and moves close enough to give Jason a good sniffing-over. Smoke. Perfume. Good perfume — even to his easily-annoyed nose. Musk. Treville rumbles. 

"Treville —" 

"Let me get to know you," Treville says, and reaches for that frankly gorgeous long, dark-red hair — 

Jason steps back. 

"Jason —" 

"I had... another reason for wanting to share blood with you," Jason says, and smiles wryly, reaching out with one bare hand.

Treville raises an eyebrow and takes the hand — and *yanks* his hand back immediately, because he feels wrong, hot, shifting — 

The dog in him is rearing up and trying to — to — 

Treville steps back and back and puts the dog in the *kennel* — 

He can't stop *growling* for long moments — 

He can't — "What the bloody hell —" 

"There are... any number of curses on me —" 

"We touched *before* —" 

"I was wearing gloves." 

"You — were glamoured. *Fuck*." 

"Perhaps... we could simply drink? And speak?" 

Treville lifts his nose. "Who are you at war against?" 

"Everyone and *everything* who would injure the right."

Treville raises an eyebrow. 

"I am... functionally immortal due to the *way* Etrigan was bound to my soul. Etrigan and I fought that and each other for many decades, and we injured many along the way. We were — we *became* — *worthless* creatures. Less than that. I have been doing my best to make amends for that since then." 

"And so has he?" 

"He has been my ally... though he doesn't experience guilt and self-loathing in quite the same ways I do. Treville —" 

"What are you doing in France?" 

"Seeking out a death-mage I know only by the name Yejide. I don't have an exact location for her, but I know —" 

"That's a Yoruba name," Treville says, and swallows. "I — I know a handful of Yoruba witches, in and around Paris. I can — help you..." 

"I... yes? But — you don't —" Jason growls and shakes his head. "You don't *have* to. I *know* I'm asking much of you —" 

"You're *asking* me to play with you. Aren't you?" And Treville pushes everything else — away. 

Just — not right now. 

He pushes it away and he *advances* on Jason with his dagger drawn. "You're asking me to live *dangerously*." 

Jason's nostrils flare — 

"You're *asking* me to share *blood* with you so that we *can* live dangerously."

And Jason's eyes *gleam* — 

He pants and shows his *teeth* — 

"I... want to know you." 

"I don't think that's all you want, Jason..." 

"I want to know you with my *tongue*." 

Treville growls and slashes his arm, putting a quick preservation spell on so he won't drip. "Start here," he says, and proffers the blade. "And if you ask me if I'm sure, I'll suck all this blood up *myself*." 

*Jason* growls — 

It sounds like it comes from everywhere in the room at once — 

It sounds like it comes from every *shadow* in the room — 

Treville *pants* and represses a *shiver* — 

And Jason slashes his own arm and offers it. 

They drink together, Treville digging *in* to Jason's arm with his fingers to either side of the wound to keep from staggering back from the skin-crawling sensations, the need to *flinch* —

And then the feeling of wrong... changes.

The feeling of shifting-crawling-*taking* changes to a hot, stroking *pull* on him, *in* him, all *through* him — 

Blood-mage — 

*Blood*-mage — 

And this one is... examining him. 

From the inside out. 

(In truth, I'm mostly molesting you.) 

Treville laughs — messily. That won't do. He laps up the spatters and runnels on Jason's arm, Jason's hot skin — 

He flattens and lengthens his tongue so he can do it *better* — 

And Jason makes a guttural noise and *bites* at the wound on Treville's arm — 

*Fuck* — 

(I promise to heal that perfectly —) 

That's really not my — concern — 

(Are you going to try to tell me you *didn't* like that pain?) 

Treville snorts and pulls back after licking Jason's wound closed — "I'm not one for lying..." 

"Mmm..." And Jason sucks hard kisses along the length of the slash — 

"Unh — *unh* — Jason —" 

And *then* he licks Treville's wound closed, standing up straight and panting. "I've given you that little... alarm..." 

For a moment, Treville has no idea what the man is talking about, between staring at his swollen reddened lips and that *hair*, but — 

But then Jason laughs, low and *delighted*, and Treville can still think a *little* bit. 

"Right, thank you —" 

"I wouldn't want you to think much more than that," Jason says, reaching up to cup Treville's face. 

*Jason's* face is fascinatingly clean-shaven, and his nose was broken at least once — 

"I don't recommend getting in the way of spiked flails..." 

"What — *what*?" 

Jason laughs *evilly*. "Will you kiss me? Or are you the sort of shifter who eschews the practice?" 

Treville growls and licks Jason's mouth — 

Jason makes a *hot* sound — 

Treville licks him again, again — 

"Would you like me to beg?" 

"We could try that..." 

"Then —" 

"But it's likely to get me too randy to kiss *well*," Treville says, and smiles ruefully. 

Jason blinks — and then nods. "The more aroused you are, the more your dog comes out, the more your dog makes *demands*." 

"Exactly, so —" 

"I have no idea why you'd think I'd have *any* objection to making love with as beautiful a hound as the one I see inside you."

Treville grunts — and growls, leaning in to nip, to nuzzle, to lick and nip more — 

To tug on those swollen lips — 

To *attack* that long throat — 

Jason moans and strokes his hair, his ears, the back of his neck — 

Cups the back of Treville's head and *offers* his throat — 

Treville *bites* — 

Jason bucks and *pants* — 

You love your earth-mages...

"To utter *distraction*. Please —" 

Treville bites his way to Jason's Adam's apple — 

Jason groans and *shudders* — 

Treville pushes both hands into that incredible hair and *yanks* Jason's head back further — 

"*Fuck* —" 

"Do you like this...?" And Treville bites harder. Quick, *mean* bites. "Do you like how this feels?" 

Jason groans again and — laughs. "Do you always make your paramours *bend* for you, amant?"

Treville blinks — and pulls back. 

"Oh, don't do that —" 

"That question was designed to pull me up short, Jason," Treville says, and grips his chin. "Why is that?"

And the look in Jason's eyes is — burning. Hungry. *Hungry* — and then rueful. 

Treville raises his eyebrows. 

"Forgive me. A part of me began imagining bending *you* downstairs, but I am anything but averse to this."

Treville blinks — 

*Regroups* — 

Tries to —

"You're thinking about it...?" 

"I *am* living dangerously tonight," Treville says, and grins his best arsehole-grin. 

Jason hums. "I'd take care of you, you know." 

"I —" 

"I'd give you... precisely what you need." 

"Jason." 

Jason grips the wrist of the hand Treville has on his chin — 

Treville *releases* Jason's chin — 

(You've given me yourself, amant...) 

I gave you my *blood* — 

(You've given me the ability to see *precisely* what's happening behind your beautiful blue eyes.) 

Don't —

(You *think* you've needed someone to yank on your lead —) 

"*Leave* it —" 

"I rather think you need someone to *heel* you."

Treville jerks back, snarling and yanking his hand out of Jason's grip. He paces away — 

*Away* — 

"Amant..." 

"Don't — don't call me that." 

"Does the thought have no appeal...?" 

He knows it does. 

They *both* know that *he* knows — 

Treville growls and moves for the brandy, pouring himself a double-measure and drinking it down. 

And then pouring himself another — 

He drinks this one more slowly. He doesn't want — 

He doesn't want to do anything stupider. 

"You'd like to be... calm?" 

Treville *drinks* — 

Jason laughs ruefully. "I believe this is where I admit that I haven't tried to seduce anyone in... well. A very long time." 

"How..." 

"Yes?" 

"How old are you." Treville can't look at Jason, yet. 

"Six hundred or so. Possibly closer to seven hundred." 

Treville nods for — a while. It's not that he's taking in the information all that well, it's that nodding is what he can do to stop himself from screaming. 

Jason snorts. "Treville."

Treville looks up and grins. "Liked that, did you." 

"I like you."

Treville licks his lips. "I..." 

"I want to give you... peace."

"You can't give me that."

Jason raises an eyebrow and searches him — and then he takes a breath, and Treville knows exactly what he's seen. 

What he knows.


	2. It's important to look for common ground with the people you mean to have in your life.

"I think," Jason says slowly, "that it wouldn't be a *bad* idea to entertain the prospect that your commanding officer — the man you described to me — gave you this assignment to keep you from falling into a spiral of self-destruction." 

"I — what?"

"To... change your course, if only for a moment." 

Treville frowns. "I was giving myself to my *brothers*. For the first time in *years*." 

"Were you?" 

"*Yes* —" 

"There are two distinct — if hazy — memories in your mind —" 

"Stop."

"— of the brothers in question —" 

"*Stop* —" 

"— urging *you* to stop —" 

Treville snarls and reaches *deep* within Jason, deep and deep for everything that hurts, everything that *burns* — 

And there is a woman.

She's tall, and built strong. Blonde — and her hair is thick and long. She has the bearing of a queen, and she's laughing at a pleading Jason as she binds him magically to a wall. 

She's --

(You would know her as Morgan Le Fay...) 

Treville *grunts* — and drops the memory as if scalded. 

Jason is smiling ruefully. "None of us knew she was Arthur's sister, at first. We all knew she was his lover, and that Mordred was his bastard. We didn't talk about that. All men have their... slips. I was a broken man when we seduced each other. And when she showed me — and no one else — that she was a mage powerful enough to hide her magery from even Merlin... well. She built me anew. 

"I'd been rejected by the men — nearly all of them — for having taken a spiked flail to the face and seeming to die... only to heal myself nearly perfectly and walk right back into camp. They thought I was a revenant. Nothing could convince them otherwise. Merlin bought my life with his pretty words. Arthur stood by me... but.

"I'd previously been accepted — even welcomed — for my powers. After that... I was... not. 

"Before Morgan came, I'd considered desertion. I had no brothers, no family. The knight who had stood for me when I was knighted, the one man who still truly believed in me and looked at me with warmth... well, Ser Darwyn had finally been injured once too many times. He was too proud to ride in a *cart*, and I... 

"I'm rambling. Morgan... gave me life again, if not hope. Morgan gave me heat, if not warmth. Morgan *taught* me things I had never known, and I loved her. I loved her. In time, I even stopped wanting my affair with her to be my suicide. I dreamed of stealing her from Arthur, of running away with her somewhere the two of us — and her spoiled, awful son — could be a family." And Jason — smiles at him. It's pale and small and *old*. 

"Jason..." 

"You want to apologize for dredging this up." 

"*Yes* —" 

"I want..." And Jason looks at something behind his own eyes for long moments. 

Treville shivers and pours *him* a brandy, bringing it close. 

Jason takes it and downs it in two long swallows. "Mm. I want to know you, Treville." 

"You *do* —" 

"More than I can steal from your thoughts. More than I can *dredge* from your *grief*."

Treville *shudders* — 

"For that, I believe, there is only one price," Jason says, setting the tumbler down on the small writing desk and reaching up to cup Treville's face again. 

"I haven't — talked about my. Grief." 

Jason searches his eyes. "You would've had to stop searching, stop *working*, for a few spare moments to do that." 

"I — I couldn't —" 

"Of course not. Will you let me help you?"

"Do you want to help me or do you want to *fuck* me?" 

"I want both — and any number of other things." 

"I... don't think you can help me *by* —" 

"Have you never eased a man — or a boy? — by helping him to bend when he couldn't? A woman?"

And the memory hits hard, strikes *sharp* —

Drags him *under* — 

_And he's cupping his Amina-love's long throat with one hand and *gripping* her round hip with the other, *holding* her with her back to his front —_

_He's — _

_The as-yet-unnamed babe is asleep in his crib, and Amina is healed, finally *healed*, and they're just about to make love — _

_Treville would've taken *anything* — _

_But Amina's scents — _

_The way she's been *pushing* him — _

_Snarling and growling and — not snapping. Not quite that. _

_Demanding. _

_The way her heartbeat is *pounding* beneath his fingertips..._

_Treville squeezes harder, both hands — _

_"Jean-*Armand* —" _

_"I think. I think I know what you want from me, Amina-love..."_

_She pants then, fast and *hot* — _

_"I think I know and it's driving me *wild*," he says, and bites her *ear* — _

_She moans — _

_She *croons* and tries to push *back* — _

_Tries to *feel* him — _

_And he gives her himself, gives her his hard cock and *increasingly*-furry belly and sweaty *skin* —_

_"Oh —" _

_"Do you feel me, Amina-love? Do you feel how much I want you this way?" _

_"Sweet brother..." And she sounds almost *tortured*. She — _

_She's *shuddering* — _

_Her sweat is *wrong* — _

_Treville laps it away from her throat around his fingers. "I think. I think you work too *hard*, Amina-love. I think you fight too many *battles*. Every *fucking* day —" _

_"Brother —" _

_"Shh. Let me fight this one for you." _

_She grunts — _

_She stiffens so hard Treville thinks he's ruined everything, *lost* everything — _

_He's getting ready to *apologize* — _

_And then she croons again, relaxing all over and reaching for his hands — but not to move them. She *pets* his hands, and snugs further against him. _

_"Amina..."_

_"I. I have always loved... watching you fight, sweet brother..." _

_Treville growls. "The feeling is *mutual*," he says, and *puts* her on the bed on her back — _

_"*Oh* — but —" _

_"But it's my *turn* now, Amina-love," he says, and he spreads her wide — _

_She croons again — _

_Treville licks his entire *face* — _

_"Brother — sweet brother —" _

_— and cups her whole sex with his hand. *Squeezes* — _

_She *grunts* for him. _

_"Tell me, Amina-love. Tell me if this sweet cunny needs *discipline*."_

Treville *wrenches* himself out of the memory — 

"You didn't have to do that on my account..." 

Treville — laughs painfully into his hands. At some point, he'd covered his face. 

He — 

He drops his hands. He's not weeping. 

(Perhaps you should...) 

"Jason —" 

Jason makes a gesture for peace. "You have my apologies. I didn't intend to stab you with your memories —" 

"The way I did to you with yours?"

Jason smiles wryly. "You've done nothing to earn my revenge, amant." 

"I —" 

"But you don't want me to call you that. I — apologize," Jason says, and turns away. 

"I've. I've hardly been anything *like* a lover to you —" 

"Is that your only objection...? Because... we can fix that," Jason says, and the *words* are teasing and light, but there's hope in his eyes, curiosity, need -- 

"I — I really do like you," Treville says, and laughs helplessly.

"Does that shock you?" More curiosity, more *need* -- for all that the tone is still *light* -- 

He'll give for that. He always will. "No. Why?" 

"It shocks *me*," Jason says, laughing a little and studying Treville -- a lot. "I haven't been charming, at all." 

"You haven't let me get *away* with anything. I — all my favourite people are like that. If being charming makes you stop that —" Treville shakes his head and closes the distance between them again. "Please throw charm out the window." 

Jason inhales with a shudder and nods. "Then... I think... that I need to know more about your wife." 

"My..." Treville whines, just once. 

Jason cups his face with both hands. "I can see that you were never given the chance to make your marriage official, but you were wed to her more surely, more truly, more *tightly* —" 

"*Yes*! And... and we have... a son..." 

"Yes. Hidden from you, somehow, despite the fact that, as the All-Mother's children, you should be as clear to one another as two dogs on a sunny field." 

"I..." Treville frowns.

"Mm?" 

"The witches who bound Amina and me... who *made* us shifters..." 

"They did a remarkable job of it. Usually power-augmentation is a messy affair all-round..." 

"So I've seen," Treville says, and focuses on Jason. "Ife, Lara, Layo — they bypassed the All-Mother when they did this." 

"They — what?" 

"They didn't want to offend the goddess —" 

"Offend — oh, Cerridwen's *cock*." Jason drops his hands. "Tell me you've at least *communed* since then!" 

Treville frowns in *confusion* — 

And Jason looks like he *wants* to be sweating — and not in any of the good ways. 

"Jason, *what* —" 

"Short version: You could never offend the All-Mother by giving her more children to love." 

"Well, that's good —" 

"You will *definitely* offend the All-Mother by having those children *ignore* her after that *birth*." 

"... oh."

"Did you all think she wouldn't *notice*?"

"She's a *goddess*. She has better things to *do*, Jason!" 

"She's the *earth*-goddess. The earth-*mother*-goddess — and the lot of you caused her to give birth again! Twice!" 

"Well... when you put it that way..." 

Jason splutters. 

Treville grins. "I like that sound from you." 

"Oh, do you?" 

"Yes —" 

"Could you promise to try *very* hard to make me make it less often when you're offending hideously powerful *deities*?" 

Treville screws up his face and strokes his beard mock-thoughtfully — 

"Oh — flaming *harpies* —" 

"I just don't *know*, Jason..." 

"*Why* don't you know?" 

"I mean, you're making it sound like you want something long-term with me..." And Treville grins —

And waggles his eyebrows *just* once — 

And lolls his tongue — 

"You magnificent arsehole." 

"That's me —" 

And Jason's hand is on *his* throat — 

Treville *grunts* — 

And Jason's *other* hand is on his *bollocks*, *squeezing* — 

Treville's mouth *falls* open — 

"Let me show you exactly why you want *me* in your life on a long-term basis, amant." 

Treville pants and pants and — 

His cock *jerks* — 

He's *sweating* —

"That's right, amant. Give yourself to me. Let me have you *just* as we both *like*." 

And this — no. "You don't have to prove anything — anything to me —" 

"What —" 

"I already *want* you in my life, Jason —" 

"Amant —" 

"You don't have to give me — anything *else*." 

And for a moment they're only staring at each other, only —

Jason looks so *bemused* — and then he doesn't, and that's frightening. 

Wonderfully frightening. 

Cock-hardening, and — but. "Jason —" 

"It *is* a sacrifice for you to give your dominance to others. Isn't it." 

Treville grunts and winces, shakes his head — 

"Not all the time, I know. Not with your *wife* —" 

"*No*, I — and not even — even *most* of the time —" 

"But you've wanted more than you've had." 

"I." And just thinking about it that way... 

Just *letting* himself think about it that way — 

Treville shudders and *sweats* more. His bollocks are *tightening* in Jason's fist — 

"As an aside," Jason says, and *strokes* Treville's throat with his thumb, "I don't tend to deny myself what *I* want —" 

"That's a lie." 

"I — amant —" 

"You've been trying to deny yourself practically since we've *met*, Jason!" 

"I haven't —" 

"You bloody *have*. Now, I'll admit you've been a bit conflicted about it —" 

"Oh — murdering boggarts," Jason says, and *releases* him — 

Treville grunts — "You didn't have to do that —" 

Jason growls and pinches the crooked bridge of that nose. "I... am going to eat you alive," he says. *Calmly*. 

Treville raises his eyebrows. "As soon as you get your bearings?" 

"Yes." 

"*You* like getting called on things." 

"I like being known," he says, and takes a deep breath — 

And another — 

And *another* — and then he looks up and drops his hand.

He is... a handsome man. 

Not too many visible scars, and a lot of *bearing*. His mouth isn't that broad or lush, but Treville already knows his teeth are sharp. His eyes are wide and brown. His long, thick, dark-red hair is — perfect. 

"Is it...?" 

"Yes," Treville says, licking his lips and continuing his perusal. Those broad shoulders — swordplay with a *bastard* sword wouldn't have it any other way. And... Treville wants to see his body. 

"Will it help you make a decision, amant...?" 

"Did you think I hadn't already?" 

Jason growls and — his clothes are gone. His — 

His body is *hard*. 

*Worked*. 

Again, not very *many* scars, considering how he's been living for *centuries* — 

"My healings are rather terrible, but *effective*," Jason says, and takes Treville's hand — 

"I was going to use that —" 

"Were you?" 

"Am I not allowed to touch anymore...?" 

Jason's eyes... flare. "Do you like being denied, amant?" 

And that... is... Treville smiles ruefully. 

"You don't know. I see. Perhaps we'll experiment with it... another time," Jason says as he rests Treville's hand on his hard, freckled belly, and his voice is low and even, but his eyes are — wide. 

Hungry. 

Infinitely too young for who he is -- and still *dauntingly* older than *Treville*. Still -- 

It doesn't make him want this any less. 

It doesn't -- 

He's already hurting, just a little, with need for -- just this. *Just* this -- and maybe a little more, too. 

The dog in him wants more. The dog in him has wanted more of Jason since they were still *downstairs*, and -- 

And Treville is nodding helplessly, and he's *been* stroking that skin, that sleek and smooth and not-scarred-enough skin — "I'd like that. I'd like to try... all sorts of things with you." 

"What wouldn't you like to try?" 

Treville strokes down to the feathery trail of hair leading to Jason's impressively thick — and human-looking — cock. 

"Answer, amant." 

Treville grunts — and blushes. "I don't know. I want — I want better answers for you." 

"The best answers are honest ones. You know that." 

Treville blushes harder, cups Jason's hard cock — 

Jason sighs. "Did you want to examine it up close...?"

Treville grins. "Yes. Very close. Very — very, very —" 

Jason hums. "Stroke me. Lightly." 

Treville blushes *again* — 

"And look up. Meet my *eyes*." 

Treville — croons. "This — this is already..." 

"Affecting...? I can tell," Jason says, smiling and stroking Treville's cheek with his rough fingertips — "But tell me more." 

"I — I'm no poet —" 

"But you're feeling moved to poetry...?" 

Treville feels like his face is on *fire* — 

He lets himself focus on working Jason's foreskin for — a little while. Tugging it back up over the head a little, as far as it will go — 

Working it along Jason's *length* as the whole gorgeous, hard, *hot* cock jerks and *leaks* — 

It's hotter than any cock he's ever *felt* -- 

It makes *his* cock feel *human*, and -- 

Teasing and scratching and squeezing, just a little — 

Working his thumb over the *curves* of that thick, mushrooming head -- 

Jason is leaking all over his *hands* — 

"Should I let you — mn. Lose yourself to that?" 

No. "I..." 

"I didn't think so. You may touch me anywhere *except* my cock and balls." 

Treville groans — 

His palms already *ache* — 

"Jason —" 

"The faster you behave, the faster you may earn... rewards." 

"Fuck — *fuck*," Treville says, laughing and moving his hands — 

*Licking* his hands — 

"Mm — even your slick tastes a little smoky —" 

"So I've been told," Jason says, and smiles wryly. "You like it." 

Treville meets Jason's eyes... and bites three of his fingers at once. 

Jason takes a sharp breath. "Noted. But tell me more about how you *feel* about taking my orders, amant."

Treville pulls his fingers out with a wet slurp — 

Jason narrows his eyes just like he *should* — "Never doubt your ability to be *affecting*, amant." 

"I —" 

"Even when you're not putting me on my knees." 

Treville — blushes again. 

"You're an immensely arousing man... and I'm going to teach you how arousing you can be when you *bend*." 

Treville — finishes licking his hands clean. "That sounded like a threat." 

"We both know you enjoyed it." 

They do. They — do. Treville nods and turns — 

"*Don't* look away." 

Treville grunts and turns back to meet Jason's eyes — 

"And you've a question to answer." 

"I... I don't know how." 

"But you do." 

"Jason —" 

"You know how to *tell* me how you *feel*," Jason says. "And that is precisely what you will do." 

Treville — shudders. And nods. "I feel... cornered." 

"Yes?" 

"I feel trapped — not necessarily in bad ways. I..." 

"You don't like having *good* ways to feel trapped. Do you." 

Treville frowns. "I... should be better —" 

"Stop. Take your clothes off."

"I —" 

"All of them," Jason says, and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Treville shudders — stops that. 

Reminds himself that he's a *soldier* — 

That he's always *been* a soldier — 

(You will always *be* a soldier, amant. Give me your body.) 

Treville pants and strips, fast and efficient, grateful beyond words that Jason hadn't asked for anything complicated, or even *slow*. 

He's going to be thinking about this the next time he makes someone strip down for him — 

He's — 

"One way of doing things leads rather naturally to the other, amant," Jason says, and walks round and round him. "I've found that the lessons I've learned while bending for others have served me well when *I* was bending others." 

"That makes perfect sense," Treville says, and keeps stripping. 

"But you don't believe it...?" 

Treville — stops. His boots and socks are off. His — 

He's down to his trousers and breeches. He's. 

He shudders. 

"You're trying not to think." 

"Yes. Yes, Jason." 

"Mm. Finish undressing." 

"Yes, Jason," Treville says, feeling — pushed. 

Held down — 

Hot and *restrained* — 

And now they're both naked while it's happening. Now — 

"You have a beautiful body, amant..." 

Treville shivers. "Thank you —" 

"Face me." 

"Yes, Jason."

"Tell me why you're afraid of my eyes now. You're *not* afraid of being seen." And Jason is standing hipshot in front of him, arms still crossed over his chest, eyebrow *up* — 

Treville feels like a bloody *radish*, but — "You already know that." 

"You have no choices about what you are and are *not* allowed to say to me *when*, amant." 

"*Fuck* —" 

"Answer." 

"I don't — want this. I don't want this *knowledge*." 

"Which knowledge in particular?" 

"Saying it will —" Treville growls — 

"You're far too intelligent and valuable to hide from knowledge, amant. I will not *let* you." 

Treville snarls — 

"*Down*." 

Treville grunts — and stares. 

Jason is *glaring* back, and — 

And there's so much *weight* behind his stare — 

There's so much — 

And there had been an order. An order... he can follow. 

Treville drops to his knees, utterly unsurprised to find that Jason had maneuvered them to one of the room's few rugs. Or... 

Had he done that?

*Would* he have done that? 

"That's a question you can answer some *other* time. For now... let's look at the knowledge you're hiding from," Jason says, and *grips* him by the jaw — 

Treville winces. "I — could bite —" 

"But you won't. Will you." 

"I've come close to losing control, Jason, you — you already know that." 

"I know that I *am* your control tonight, amant. If you bite me when you don't have permission to do so... you will be punished." 

Treville's cock jerks *hard* —

"Yes, I thought you'd like that idea. You've *wanted* to be punished. Haven't you." 

"I —" 

"That was a yes or no question." 

"Nnh — then. Yes. I have —" 

"You've wanted to be *hurt* for what you see as your *numerous* failings. Haven't you." 

"*Yes* —" 

"Who is it that hurts you in your fantasies, amant? *Which* of your brothers has earned that privilege in your dreams." 

Treville — doesn't look away. 

"No, don't do that... ah, I see, it *is* your Captain..." 

"He — he's my brother, as well —" 

"Yes, I see that, too. Your *eldest* brother, and your feelings for him..." Jason raises an eyebrow again. "You've been on your knees to *him* since you were *fourteen*, amant. I do believe an explanation is required." 

Treville winces. "He... went to his marriage bed a virgin." 

"That seems to be your *fault*, amant." 

"No, I —" 

"I do see him in your mind," Jason says, and strokes Treville's beard with his thumb. "I see his... *bracing* intellectualism and all of that dauntingly *correct* behaviour..." 

"*Yes*, Jason —" 

"I see other things, amant." 

Treville inhales sharply and tries to pull back — Jason doesn't let him. 

Jason is *stronger* that he is — "Yes, I am. And I *promise* to use that against you." 

Treville's heart *pounds* — 

His cock gets *harder* — 

*Leaks* more — 

"Good boy." 

"Jason — I don't — I don't want to talk about my brothers." 

"You *do* want to hide from knowledge, and I will not let you do that. Resign yourself to it." 

"*Jason* —" 

"Name your *fear* — speak it *plain* — and I will stop."

Treville grits his teeth.

"Very well. Put your hands behind your back." 

Treville blinks — and does it, crossing his wrists at the base of his spine. 

"Lovely. And not very difficult, at all, yes...?" 

"Everything is relative, Jason." 

Jason laughs hard. "Such a bad-tempered hound. You're not earning your rewards, at *all*." 

Treville *grunts*, eyes widening —

And Jason laughs harder. "Tell me what rewards you'd *like* to earn..." 

"I — want to touch your cock again." 

"Just touch it...?" 

Treville growls and stares at it — 

It jerks, spattering Treville's *cheek*. 

Treville *pants* — 

"*Don't* lick that off." 

"I — yes, Jason. I want to suck you." 

"Do you." 

"I want — yes." 

"No. Finish the other thought," Jason says, and his fingers are cruel on Treville's chin, almost *bruising* — 

Treville wants them other *places* — 

"Earn them." 

"I want — my throat fucked," Treville says, and flushes again, and *tries* to look at that cock — 

Jason isn't letting him. 

Jason is making him look *up* — 

Well, Treville can always look at that hair. 

"I want to touch your hair. I want to run my hands through your hair. I want to sniff your hair when it gets sweaty and see how smoky it still smells. I want — I want you to fuck me." Treville feels himself flushing harder — 

He doesn't try to look down — 

He doesn't try to look away — 

"*How* do you want to be fucked, amant." 

Treville — bites back a whine. "Hard. I want it hard. I want it to hurt. I want you to make me howl —" 

"Will I *punish* you with my cock...?" 

Treville hears himself make a desperate noise — but. 

"But...?" 

"I don't — know. I don't know if I want that." 

Jason sighs out a growl and — cups Treville's face. Gently. 

"Please —" 

"You know you've earned any number of rewards with all of this." 

"I — yes?" 

Jason strokes into Treville's hair with one hand and *grips*. "Yes. You did *very* well. You were a very good, honest hound." 

Treville blushes and rumbles helplessly, but — "You — you set me *up* —" 

"Did I?" 

"You made — you made everything else so *hard* —" 

"I *believe* you'll find that you made those questions difficult yourself." 

Treville — frowns, not growls. Not — 

"You want to be a good boy, don't you." 

Treville pants. 

Treville thinks about saying something about wanting to earn more rewards, wanting to *have* — 

Treville shudders and closes his eyes, just for a moment. "I've. I've wanted to be a good boy." 

"You haven't had that." 

"I." Treville swallows with a click. "I was Amina's good boy. And she was my good girl." 

Jason's hands pause on him — but only for a moment before he goes back to petting, gripping, *holding* — 

*Stroking* — 

"Tell me when you lost her."

"It — years. Too many —" 

"Yes, I see. And she had been lost *to* you before then —" 

"*Please* —" 

"Tell me I can help you." 

"I —" 

"Tell me I can help you take your *vengeance*." 

"I — I already killed Belgard. I —" And Treville shakes his head once and shows Jason, shows him Belgard's greedy, selfish 'patronage' of Amina, shows him Amina's refusal to let Treville *deal* with him, to let Treville and *Laurent* deal with him so that there'd be no *mess* — 

And shows him what Belgard had done instead of putting Amina aside when she'd fallen pregnant. 

Instead of putting Amina aside when she'd had the *child* — 

"An *assassin* —" Jason growls and grips Treville's hair tighter. "Did you do that to his eye...?" 

"Amina did. She fought him off with the babe in her *arms* —" 

"Despite his being immune to earth-magery. And then... you tracked him. And got answers out of him." 

"Not enough. Not *enough*. She — my Amina-love was *hidden* —" 

"But enough to know that Belgard had hired him —" 

Treville shows Jason what he'd done with Belgard, the looping ropes of his own intestines holding him up in the trees — 

The echoes of his sobbing screams — 

Jason's cock twitches. 

Treville blinks. There's more slick on his cheek. There — 

"Hmm. Terribly sorry about that —" 

"Did you... just..." 

"I did, yes —" 

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Jason?" 

"One picks up a *problematic* fixation or two — or a dozen — when one has been warring for centuries, amant," Jason says, and strokes Treville's lips with his callused fingers. "Would you like to reminisce about what you did to that assassin with me? I promise it will just make me fuck you *harder*." 

Treville *grunts* — 

And Jason's smile is — wet. 

Sharp. 

*Hungry*. "Go on. *Tell* me. And then tell me if your fellow Musketeers actually let you off the lead when it comes time for *interrogations*." 

"I — they don't." 

"No?" 

"Laurent is an honourable man —" 

"As you've said, but he's not *with* you on every mission," Jason says, and keeps stroking Treville's lips — 

Stroking and stroking and — 

Sensitizing. 

Treville slips his tongue out to taste — 

Just a little — 

"No, amant. Put it back." 

Treville — lets himself whine. 

"Though, for that, I'll reward you more." 

Treville *blushes* — 

"Answer my question." 

"Laurent's with us — all of us — all the time. I'd say he casts a long shadow, but... he's brighter than that." 

Jason studies him for long moments. 

Looks *into* him — 

Treville *sweats* —

"You've never told him you were in love with him." 

"Jason —" 

"Tell me about the assassin." 

"I made him — he was mad. Mad in a different way than I'd ever seen before. He stank of it. It was... he made my skin crawl just being *around* him. I had no trouble understanding how Amina fought him off, for all that he was healthy enough and strong, because she would've needed to *end* him *immediately*, whether or not he threatened or attacked *first*." 

"Oh. One of *those*." 

"You're... familiar...?" 

"They're thankfully rare, as near as I've been able to discern, but they've never been unknown. You weren't able to get very much information from him, at all." 

"Practically nothing. He was... in a dream of his own. Or... not that. It almost seemed as though he were on a sphere somewhere to the left of everyone and everything else, and he'd taken bits and pieces of *our* sphere with him." 

Jason nods as if that makes perfect sense. "But you were too enraged to simply end him." 

"I was — I was mad, myself. Enraged, yes, but my Amina-love was missing, and so was our babe. I could and *couldn't* feel them..." Treville growls. "I... worked on him. For hours. Cutting him here and there. Cutting pieces *off* him. Healing the wounds so he wouldn't bleed out." 

"*Really*." 

"At first, I'd threaten more harm, but that didn't make him talk." 

"Did anything?" 

Treville grits his teeth. "Promises. Promises of *gifts*." 

"Human gifts?" 

Treville nods. "He started to laugh as he talked, then. As I cut piece after piece from his body. He giggled when I cut his cock off. I let him laugh himself to death." And Treville raises an eyebrow. 

"Not *much* sport there." 

"'Sport', Jason?" 

"Will you deny the pleasure you take in such things, amant? When there's pleasure to be had, of course." 

And *that*... Treville smiles wryly. "No. I *am* a bad-natured hound. I always have been. I was dreaming of tearing people apart with my teeth — slowly — long before I was made into a shifter." 

Jason grins at him. 

"Most people *dis*like that aspect of my personality, Jason." 

"Mm, and it's true that, when I was your age, I would have recoiled just a *bit* —" 

"My *point* —" 

"But I'm *not* your age, amant," Jason says, cupping the back of Treville's head with one hand and the base of his own cock with the other. 

"Oh." 

"Yes," he says. "I'm old, and perverse, and *terribly* violent. All three of those things have proven *remarkably* useful over the years. I don't fight them, amant," he says, and starts to *stroke* his long, thick cock. 

"Please —" 

"I don't *resist* the pull of my fixations — though you're correct that I will try... try to deny myself the *companionship* of others when I'm feeling especially — well. Enough of that." Jason growls. "How you *stare*." 

"I — I —" 

"Do you want it, amant?"


	3. Part of Treville's mind is honestly stuck on "Whee!"

"Do you want it, amant?" 

"Yes —" 

"Do you *crave* it." 

Treville flares his nostrils — 

Tugs against Jason's *grip* on his *hair* — 

Gets nowhere. He has to answer. "I want. I want your cock." 

"You know how to get it," Jason says, and keeps stroking, keeps — 

He's leaking so *much* — 

He's leaking like a *shifter* — 

Treville *starts* to lick his face — stops himself before he can taste Jason's slick, before he can *disobey* -- 

Jason growls *more* — "You're making us *both* wait, amant..." 

And that makes him *jerk*, makes him — makes him ache and hurt and *panic* — 

"You're making me wonder if you *do* need punishment..." 

Treville whines — 

Needs and *whines* — 

"Oh, amant... you need only tell me how you *feel*. That's all. There's nothing you need hide from here. There's nothing to *fear*." 

Treville whines more and *pants* — 

"Give me what I need," Jason says. "Give me what *I* crave." 

Treville croons a *question* — 

"Oh, yes, amant. I need your *submission*. I *ache* for it. Such a powerful man to have in *my* hands... mm. Give me what I need... and earn your reward." 

Treville pants and yips and — shares. Shares the wetness of his mouth as he salivates, shares the way he can't stop *swallowing* — 

His empty *throat* — 

His empty, *empty* throat — 

"Oh — beautiful. But will you speak?" 

"I — I —" Treville *croons*, and pleads up into Jason's eyes. 

Jason gasps — "You can't right now." 

Treville croons an *apology* and tries to lower his head, tries — Jason won't let him. 

"Stay right there. Stay — we took you... just a little further than I was expecting in that moment... will you shift?"

Treville shakes his head as much as Jason is *letting* him — 

Jason raises his *eyebrow* again — "Will you shift if I *tell* you to?" 

Treville *pants* — and nods and nods — 

"Oh, you beautiful *hound*. *Take* me," Jason says, and *pulls* Treville onto his cock, pulls him — 

All the way — 

Treville laps and laps and swallows and laps and swallows *more* — 

Takes him *in* — 

Croons in his chest — 

He can't stop lapping — 

He *won't* stop, so delicious, so smoky-thick-strange, inhuman, strong, all over this big cock, and right now Treville has earned it — 

Right now, it's all his. 

Treville wraps his long tongue *around* Jason's cock — 

"Nnh — Hecate's *cunt*, I — good *boy*," Jason says, and pets him, pets him hard, pets him *firmly*, and his calluses are catching on Treville's short hair, and he's gone back to petting Treville's lips with the fingers of his other hand, rubbing them so roughly — 

Making them swell — 

Making them swell even more than they normally *would* — 

And Jason *is* fucking his throat, grunting out breaths for every thrust and shoving in — 

Shoving *in* — 

And Treville holds still for it, takes it like he was told, takes it like a good boy, takes — 

He wants — 

And Jason groans as his cock *jerks* in Treville's throat, as it leaks and leaks and *leaks*, and Treville *works* it with his tongue, tastes, loves — 

He has to show Jason how much he appreciates him, how much he wants him, how delicious he is, how good, how *right*!

He has to taste him everywhere, mark him, make him *see* — 

Jason *growls* again — 

Treville's cock *spasms* — 

Spatters the floor and his own belly — 

And Treville laps more, laps faster, swallows and swallows and — 

"Such — such an affectionate —" Jason growls and *grips* Treville's head in both hands — 

Thrusts and *pulls* — 

Treville *gulps* Jason's cock in, and the wet suck of it, the wet *noise* of it — 

The wet and obvious and — 

So open — 

So obvious and dirty and *wet* — 

It happens again and *again* — 

"It's — it's what you've *earned*," Jason says, growling and *grinding* in, taking — 

Taking Treville *over* with his cock, and it feels so good, so right, so — 

It was never — 

He's on his *knees* — 

He's on his *knees*, and he's crooning in his chest and drooling down his own chin, and a man who can overpower him *easily* is *working* Treville's head on his cock — 

Making Treville feel like the hungriest, neediest *boy* — 

Jason *gasps* — "*Amant*..." 

Treville flushes — 

"You're. You're *precisely* as needy a hound as I *like*," Jason says, and fucks Treville *faster* — 

*Works* him faster — 

Treville feels himself *fall* — 

He can't stop *lapping* — 

He can't stop *shaking* — 

He's so hard, he's so — 

He's *aching* for it, and he needs Jason to never stop, to just keep fucking him hard, so *hard* — 

"Will you spend this way?" 

Treville's cock jerks again — 

Again and *again* — 

He can't — 

He can't keep up the rhythm of his *swallows* — 

He chokes — 

Jason's cock bumps the back of his throat — 

Jason *growls* again — 

Treville's *eyes* roll back in his head — 

Jason doesn't *stop* — 

Jason doesn't *pause* — 

"You don't *want* me to, amant," he says, and he growls more, fucks harder, rams *in* — 

Treville *sobs*, drools, *gulps* — 

"*That's* right," Jason says, and fucks *down* into Treville's throat — 

Makes him *take* — 

Treville is leaking so *much* — 

Treville is so — 

Hot and aching — 

Hot and aching and needy for *more* — 

"You'll *have* it," Jason says, and claws Treville's *cheek* — 

Treville *bucks* — 

Coughs — 

"*Swallow*!" 

Treville swallows and swallows and — fuck, it's good, so good, so — 

He's bucking at *nothing*, and he can't stop that, either, he — 

He doesn't want to. 

He doesn't care *what* he looks like on his knees like this — 

Taking it like this — 

He wants more. 

He wants *more*, and more than that, and fuck, Jason has one hand on the back of his head and the other on his throat — 

Jason is *pulling* him into every thrust *and* choking him — 

Had Jason seen that fantasy? 

That *dream*? 

"*Nnh*. *No*. But I know to *look* — look for it — oh, you'll tell me all your beautiful dreams, amant," Jason says, and moves his hands to Treville's shoulders. "I'll make them come *true*." And he shoves Treville *down* — 

Treville *barks* around Jason's cock — 

Sits on his *heels* — 

And then he's *howling*, because Jason is stepping on his *bollocks* — 

Stepping — 

Not *lightly* — 

"*Take* it," Jason says, and shoves back *in* — 

Shoves *deep* — 

Treville swallows *helplessly*, cock jerking and jerking and *spitting* slick — 

"Oh, that's *perfect*, amant," Jason says, and starts fucking him hard and fast and harder than that — 

Starts — 

Starts *pumping* his bollocks with his foot — 

Pumping like -- like he's working a *treadle* — 

Treville *can't* — 

"You *can*. *Spend*," Jason says, shoving in deep and staying *still* while he works Treville's head, just his *head* — 

Back and forth and back and forth and he never stops working his *bollocks* and — 

"*Don't* make me *wait*," Jason says, and Treville's heart leaps into his throat and his belly *drops* and there's a *fire* in his spine that just burns and burns and — 

He spurts — 

He *howls*, and it's broken, ragged, chopped to pieces by the way Jason is working his head on his cock — 

He howls more — 

Spurts and spurts and *aches*, and Jason is *milking* his bollocks with his foot — 

Jason is *torturing* his bollocks — 

"No — no, I can't wait," Jason says, panting, and *throws* Treville down onto his back — 

Treville arches and spurts *more* — 

*Coughs* a howl — 

And Jason straddles his *chest* and *feeds* him his cock — 

"Mm — *mmgh* —" 

"Take it all, lovely hound, take it — ah, *fuck*, you're *incredible*," Jason says, and his eyes are *black* with need, wide, hungry, so *hungry* — 

Treville croons and *grips* at the rug since he can't get his hands behind his back like this — 

"That — oh, good boy, good *boy* — you..." And Jason is panting, sweating — 

His hair is wild, lank — 

He's fucking in-in-*in* — 

Treville doesn't want to miss a *moment* — 

"No, take everything, it's *yours* —" 

Treville croons more, gulps, swallows and *gulps* — 

Sucks and laps — 

"Yes — yes, lick me, lick me and — *nnh* —" 

Treville licks *faster*, tries to lengthen his tongue that much more, curls it and *lashes* Jason with it — 

"*Fuck* — fuck, you perfect —" And *Jason* snarls and looms over him, *slams* in — 

Gasps and slams in *raggedly* — 

Treville takes it, sore and so needy, sore and so hungry, sore and so *hard* — 

Please, so *hard* — 

And Jason gasps hungrily and slams in twice more before *grinding* in, in — 

*In* — 

"*Fuck* — *amant* —" And that last was almost another *snarl* — he's spurting. He's — 

He's filling Treville's aching, swollen throat — 

Treville croons in his chest and swallows as fast as he can, takes every *drop* — 

He needs it, he needs to be a good boy — 

"Ah, *fuck* — *taste* me," Jason says, pulling out just enough to spurt on Treville's tongue, to paint Treville's *mouth* — 

Treville laps and laps and slurps and *sucks* — 

Takes — 

Jason's cock keeps *spasming* — 

"I really — really don't know what you expected," he says, laughing and groaning and *petting* Treville — 

Treville croons and rumbles and laps — 

He can't — 

He rumbles more —

"Oh, that feels bloody *perfect*," Jason says, and runs the fingers of both hands through Treville's hair, one after the other. "*You* feel... well. How *do* you feel?" 

Treville rumbles more — 

Laps and laps his *gratitude* — 

His *need* — 

His *gratitude* — 

"Mm. I see. How close *are* you to the shift...?"

That... Treville suckles *gently* and meets Jason's eyes. As close as you need me to be. 

Jason shivers and pants. "Beautiful hound. Beautiful, hungry — and I am *starved* for you..." 

Treville tries to swallow Jason again — 

"No, not that. Not... I need more of your *voice*. More... speech. Can you give me that?" 

Treville holds his gaze. Yes, Jason. 

Jason growls and pulls out, standing and hauling Treville to his feet and into a brief, hard kiss that manages to make Treville feel every part of his sore mouth, feel every — 

Every *way* he'd been fucked — 

He shivers and leans in for more — 

"Soon," Jason says, and nips Treville's lower lip. "Bed for now. Left side, on your back." 

Treville pants — and obeys. 

Jason stops at the right side of the bed and just stares at him for a long moment. 

"Jason?" 

"There's a part of me which is insisting, vehemently, that you can't possibly be — here. Since it *can't* insist that you can't possibly be this wonderful." 

Treville blushes — more. "Jason —" 

"Are you here, amant?" 

And there's more to that question than simple reassurance. Treville isn't sure he's catching all of it — isn't sure that someone who's only lived a fraction of Jason's years *can* catch all of it — but. "I'm here."


	4. About that fixation. No, that one.

Jason nods once, solemnly, and climbs into bed with him, curling over onto his side and resting one strong, rough hand on Treville's furry belly. "This... is perfectly enchanting." 

"My fur?" 

"I've never seen quite so much of it on a shifter in *human*-form, amant."

"No? It comes and goes." 

"Does it? With your levels of arousal?" 

"And general emotional upset. When I was first made into this, I spent a *lot* of time furry, before I learned to lock myself down a bit." 

"Mm. And your balls, as well?" 

"They're always furry." 

Jason makes a small, hungry sound.

Treville grins. "You're making me a very happy man, Jason." 

"I believe that was my line, amant." 

Treville laughs and grins up at Jason — who is smiling down at him. 

He doesn't look twenty-one. 

He looks... well, no, if you *don't* look at his eyes, he *absolutely* looks younger than Treville's thirty-four.

But not catastrophically younger. 

He...

Treville reaches up — and pauses. "May I touch?"

"Oh, yes. Especially since you asked." 

"I feel... I *feel*." 

"Oh, amant. Tell me about it." 

Treville strokes Jason's face — 

The lines at his eyes and mouth — 

The shallower lines on his brow —

He drops his hand and licks his lips."You've lived hard." 

'"I have. So have you." 

"I — am not going to deny that," Treville says, and laughs. "And I'm not avoiding your order. I... I'm thinking." 

"You're not trying not to think?" 

"Not... right now?" Treville laughs again, and Jason laughs with him. 

"You're such a remarkable man..." 

"Jason —" 

"Shh. Answer." 

Treville inhales — "Yes, Jason. I... first off, do you know, yet, why I... slipped so deep? Before?" 

"I have my suspicions. You have any *number* of fantasies and scenarios in your mind about being on your knees to *Laurent*, and being interrogated about your deepest thoughts and feelings, and being urged to perform your best, and being *ordered* not to make him *wait*." 

Treville smiles ruefully. "In a lot of ways... I trained myself."

"It happens, amant. And I was *very* happy to give you something you've wanted." 

"I — but you didn't." 

Jason raises an eyebrow. 

"It started that way, and there were... elements..." Treville frowns. "I don't know if I'm going to say this right." 

Jason strokes his belly-fur. "It need not be perfectly eloquent the *first* time, amant." 

"I —"

"*I* am in no rush with you."

Treville stares up at Jason — 

At the hungry and *wanting* look in his eyes — 

And then he nods and licks his lips. "It was different. It was — it was *you*, not him, and it was your hands, and your cock, and your *voice*, and your *force*. It was you, putting me — *keeping* me on my knees after putting me there in the first place. It was you, making me need to *give*. To... fall." Treville frowns. "I don't think that's... adequate. Help me. Please." 

Jason inhales with a *shudder* — 

"I —" 

Jason curls his *nails* into Treville's belly-fur — 

Treville *arches* — 

"I think — I *think* — you have some faint idea of how desirable you are when you are pushing your lovers to their knees..." 

"I know — I know I've picked *up* a few things over the past eighteen years —" 

"But I *don't* think you have any idea how *irresistible* you are at *all* times," Jason says, and raises an eyebrow. 

Treville blinks. 

Starts to shake his head — stops.

"I... don't want to disagree with you right now." 

"Case in point."

"Jason —" 

"Shh. One hard question, and then, if you answer it well, I'll reward you again." 

Treville swallows and nods. "Yes, Jason." 

"*What* would you do should your brothers -- any or all of them -- show you..." And Jason... pauses. 

Seems to be *searching* for the right words -- except. 

He looks to be searching *Treville's* mind for them. 

"Jason...?" 

Jason's smile is rueful, and he scratches through Treville's belly-fur again. "What would you *do*, amant." 

"I don't --" 

"If your brothers were to show you -- *give* you -- themselves. Their *romantic* love --" 

Treville grunts and jerks back -- and *then* remembers that he doesn't want to do anything of the kind. He moves back into place -- "I -- I apologize --" 

"Shh. You've done nothing wrong. It *was* a difficult question," Jason says, and his eyes are rueful still, *gentle*. 

Treville frowns. "I don't -- I don't understand why you're *asking* the question." 

"No, you truly don't..." Jason shakes his head once. "Answer anyway, please. Give me yourself *this* way." 

Treville nods and -- takes a breath. Just -- breathes -- 

"Yes, good boy," Jason says, and strokes his chest and belly -- 

Strokes and pets -- 

"Breathe slowly and evenly for me -- and think." 

"Yes, Jason," Treville says, and -- settles into it. 

Settles into being *petted*, and -- isn't that wonderful?

Isn't that *always* wonderful?

He loves it, and he's loved it for as long as he can remember. He'd loved it when it was his mother's hard, former-tavern-maid hands -- 

He'd loved it when it was his Dad's *brutally* hard and scarred soldier's hands -- and, of course, the hands of all of his Dad's lieutenants -- 

He was his Dad's little terror, and the little terror of the whole *regiment*, and sometimes -- *often* -- that had meant hard hands on his head, his face -- 

In his hair -- 

Warm smiles -- 

And Treville knows he's rumbling, but he can't help it, he's being *petted*, and he'd *thought* he'd lose all of it when he enlisted -- 

He'd known, for *years* before he *had* enlisted, that his Dad had made too many enemies in the French court for Treville to be assigned to any regiment his Dad had *charge* of -- 

But. 

But there'd been Honoré. 

Honoré *and* Laurent, of course, but Laurent's touches were always more firm than this, more -- more *disciplinary*, and that was wonderful -- 

So *wonderful* -- 

But so were Honoré's touches. 

Honoré's huge, warm hands clapping down on his shoulders -- 

Honoré pulling him in for endless hugs -- 

Honoré lifting him into the *air* for hugs -- 

And all the petting when he was too drunk to complain, or put up a fight they *both* knew he didn't really mean. Just -- 

Honoré always knew he needed it. Honoré always knew he *wanted* it. And Honoré always -- gave. 

*Just* as Laurent always provided all that discipline, all those *hard* touches, *firm* touches -- 

A hand on the back of his *neck* -- 

A *grip* on the back of his neck as he hauled Treville to wherever he needed Treville to *be* -- 

And yes, yes, he's rumbling more, arching into all the touches, taking the petting, wanting more -- 

He knows he'll get it, somehow -- 

He knows -- 

Just like he always knows with Reynard, beautiful Reynard, always knows there'll be a caress --

A smile -- 

A kiss -- many kisses, for his cheeks and for his mouth, and his lips will linger against Treville's own -- 

Their tongues will touch -- 

He'll *urge* the dog in Treville to come out, to wreak havoc, to take *command*, to take -- 

To -- take...

And the first realization is that he isn't breathing steadily anymore, that -- 

That he's panting, harsh and sharp, and staring up at the ceiling of Jason's room. 

The second realization is that he *isn't* being petted anymore, and he -- 

He *croons* -- 

He flushes *and* blushes -- 

He didn't want that to *stop* -- 

"Amant... you're holding my hand quite still," Jason says, and there's a *wry* smile in his voice. 

Treville blinks -- 

*Stops* panting -- 

*Swallows* -- no. "Jason -- I." 

"I am here, and you are safe." 

"I -- don't feel that way. Anymore," Treville says, and turns to face Jason -- 

He winces with *pained* lust. "I... two things: One, I apologize profusely for that. I would keep you warm and safe in *my* arms... indefinitely --" 

"I'm not sure about that." 

Jason winces harder -- 

"What's -- the other thing?" 

Jason smiles crookedly. "You're beautiful in your honesty. Your magnificent, *remarkable* honesty." 

"But -- I hadn't been honest enough," Treville says, and nods. It wasn't really a question -- not even for himself. "You need me to be honest with *myself*... in order for this to go anywhere." 

"In a word... yes." 

Treville raises an eyebrow. "I could question your timing, lover. Assuming you actually *want* this to go somewhere." 

Jason's smile gets even more crooked -- and, now, it's about as comfortable on his face as a mattress full of broken crockery. "I have loved earth-mages before --" 

"I picked that up --" 

"I have loved earth-mages with *packs* before," Jason says, and raises an eyebrow. 

Treville pauses -- and flares his nostrils. 

The smile gets even more brittle. "I have even loved earth-mages who... *made* packs *after* becoming involved with me." 

That -- Treville growls low. He can't stop himself from doing it, and he doesn't actually try. 

Jason laughs quietly, and -- easily -- twists his hand free of Treville's, reaching up to stroke Treville's cheek. "You're honestly angry with my loves in this moment." 

"I *honestly* want to tear them *apart* -- I. They -- no," Treville says, and bites *off* another growl. 

"No...?" 

"I'm not going to make you talk about it. I *know* what bloody happened." 

"Do you...?" 

"I know what you *think* will happen with *me*." 

"You *might* care to consider how very *little* time and room I've given *you* to... consider." 

"All right, *now* I want you to talk more about your other earth-mages," Treville says, and *looks* at Jason. 

"Oh, yes...?" 

"Yes. Because I don't know what you've heard in your six or seven hundred years of warring, lover, but *dogs*? Don't bloody piss *about*." 

Jason coughs -- and grins. 

Searches Treville and grins *more* -- 

"So you *don't*..." 

Treville raises an eyebrow. "Yes? That helped?" 

Jason hums. "Your Laurent --" 

"Jason --" 

"He's *absolutely* planning to make *you* the Captain after him. Isn't he." 

*Treville* coughs. "Could you -- ah." Treville blushes *and* winces. 

"Yes, I thought so. Well. We'll just put that aside..." 

"*Thank* you --" 

"... and move on to the *important* matters," Jason says, and traces Treville's mouth with one long, hard-callused finger. 

Treville -- doesn't nip -- 

"Good boy." 

Treville raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's what you want of me right now?" 

"Oh, amant... I'm *certain* that I want *everything* of you," Jason says, and *taps* on Treville's mouth. "I'm quite especially *fascinated* with the part of your mind which has begun *busily* plotting and scheming to take me out *drinking* and *whoring* with your brothers --" 

"My *other* brothers," Treville says, and keeps his eyebrow high. 

Jason colours. "Amant..." 

"I'm a dog, Jason. We don't *do* well when our packs are... scattered." 

Jason *grunts* -- and pulls back, kneeling up beside Treville on the bed. 

Treville nods and sits up on one elbow. No further than that -- 

"Oh -- *fuck*, Treville --" 

"Easy, lover. We both know... well. You think I'm moving too fast for *myself*." 

"Of *course* I do --" 

"We both know that you're *not* moving too fast for *your*self." 

"I don't -- immortals who *have* relationships with mortals don't *tarry*. We don't -- there's never *time* for that sort of thing --" 

Treville raises a hand. "You're heard -- for all that I absolutely can't *completely* wrap my head around it, or the age in you that *built* that need. You *have* to move fast, because you've absolutely seen it all end -- too many times. Right?" 

"*Yes*." 

"You're heard," Treville says again. "And -- I can say that I've seen it end, too. You know I have. You *felt* that I had even before you brought me *up* here, I think?" 

"I -- yes. It's one of the reasons *why* I -- well." And Jason smiles ruefully again. "I felt you." 

Treville smiles wryly. "I felt you, too, lover." 

Jason takes a breath -- and looks at Treville hungrily for long moments. 

Treville rumbles and thinks *hard* about putting all this aside for the moment and just *offering* -- 

"You absolutely *should*..." 

\-- but. Treville shakes it off. "Not yet. Not -- yet." 

Jason gives him a *bleak* look -- and nods. "We felt each other... I've become a man who *absolutely* requires the company of the *stricken*, from time to time --" 

"Or more than that." 

Another coughed laugh. "Or -- quite, yes. Amant --" 

"You're -- understandably -- worried about what happens when I'm *not* so stricken. When I find my *feet* again. And you *think* that will happen just as soon as I let the *rest* of my pack --" 

"Don't." 

Treville cocks his head to the side. "Did you mean to order me not to make you my pack, lover? You'd have to take that up with -- hmm. Well, I was *going* to say that you'd have to take it up with the dog in me, but *he* has informed me -- with no little asperity -- that you'd *actually* have to take it up with --" 

"The All-Mother -- I." Jason licks his lips and looks a bit green. 

Treville wonders if the All-Mother likes that sort of thing. 

The dog in Treville gives Treville a *look* -- 

"I should say, lover -- *prior* to this point, you *had* been making an excellent impression on the dog --" 

"Oh," Jason says, and brightens visibly. 

"Mm. You *had* been doing all sorts of correct things. Giving us companionship, showing us proper discipline, making me be as honest as the dog always wants me to be -- and let's not forget the petting --" 

"I'll do all of that all the bloody *time*!" 

"Jason." 

"*What*?" 

"The *dog* chose you while I was still trying to see through all your glamour. *Downstairs*." 

Jason stares. 

And stares -- 

And *stares* -- 

"*Jason* --" 

"You don't listen to your dog." 

"I --" 

"Not about your -- other -- brothers," Jason says, and raises an eyebrow. 

Treville thinks about putting up a fight -- stops that. *Stops* that -- and smiles ruefully. "The dog would like you to know that you can help with that." 

Jason licks his lips. "Are you..." He shakes his head. "I'm going to lay my cards on the table, and be as honest... as honest as I know how to be." 

"More honest than you already have been, lover?" 

"Yes, I believe so." 

Treville inclines his head. "I promise I'll give you the same -- right up until it stops being safe for *both* of us for me to do so." 

Jason's eyes flare a *burning* red that Treville can feel in his *veins* -- 

Treville's cock *jerks* for it -- 

Jason looks at it *possessively* -- 

And Treville laughs ruefully. "*Please* do the talking *first*." 

"Hmm. If you're *absolutely* positive --" 

Treville reaches out and *grips* Jason's reaching hand -- not his wrist. He twines their fingers together, and holds Jason firmly. "I'm sure of you, lover. Just like you're sure of me." 

Jason makes a guttural noise. "Honesty, then: I'm afraid, amant. *Not* that you don't truly desire me, and desire me *deeply* --" 

"Then --" 

"Wait," Jason says, and squeezes *Treville* firmly. 

Treville rumbles and nods. 

"Good boy. I know *precisely* how much you want me. How much you *need* me -- I can *smell* it. I can *taste* it in my *blood*. I can taste it growing more passionate and *fervent* as you learn more *about* me -- and we negotiate and *renegotiate* who we will *be* to one another," Jason says, and raises an eyebrow. 

Treville cocks his head to the side... and *slowly* moves his hand to Jason's wrist, gripping firmly and pinning it to the bed before raising his own eyebrow. 

"Everything with you, amant. Everything we. Both. Want." 

Treville rumbles and rumbles. "Then what's missing, mm? Give me more honesty, please." 

"I'm *afraid*. Because you are *not* my first earth-mage, and you are not my first *dog*, and you are not --" 

"I'm not the first man to make you promises?" And Treville frowns and squeezes harder because he can't help himself. 

"Oh -- amant. I will not lie to either of us in this moment. The spheres -- the *numberless* spheres -- change around us with every blink of our *eyes*. There is *nothing* that is the same from moment to moment, nothing to which I can say 'yes, this is *precisely* the same experience now as what I had four hundred years ago in *this* country --'" 

"But that makes it worse. Doesn't it." 

"I..." 

"It makes it *worse*, because you're constantly second-guessing yourself. You're --" Treville licks his lips and growls -- stops that. "You can't stop *looking* for the similarities, because you have to let experience *guide* you into at least *trying* to avoid making the same mistakes over and over again, but, at the same time, you can't stop *throwing* yourself into new experiences, just in case you're reading a situation wrong, just in case things have changed *enough*, just in case --" 

"Just... in case I am, in fact, *calcifying* in my paranoia, misery, and *terror*," Jason says, and laughs hard. "Oh, amant. The dog I was in love with *before* you had no pack when we met. Not even a pack he had not allowed himself to take to himself *completely*." 

"And then... he did?" 

"Oh, yes. Dogs *gather* people to them. They can't *help* it. There are *remarkably* few *worthy* people in the world who can *resist* a person with all of a truly *wise* hound's best qualities," Jason says, and raises an eyebrow. 

Treville laughs ruefully. "My dog agrees with you. Pointedly." 

Jason laughs with him -- and cups Treville's face with his free hand. "Beautiful amant. My love made a pack of his own -- they all rather *flung* themselves at him --" 

"And he caught them. And... they didn't catch *you*. Right?" 

Jason's smile is brittle again. 

"I don't much like your dog, lover -- or his *taste*." 

"Are you so confident about my palatability --" 

"*Yes*." 

"-- to *your* brothers?" 

"In a word, lover? Yes." 

"Really." And Jason raises that eyebrow -- that *distancing* eyebrow -- but. 

"Here's what you told me that I'm not sure you actually meant to: Your dog was lonely before you came --" 

"Of course --" 

"Lonely enough to be *broken*. *Fundamentally* broken -- right down to where he was made."

Jason blinks at him. 

"Are you about to argue that...?" 

"I..." 

"Mm. I'll just carry on, then. He was broken, lover. That may not have been *how* you found him, but it's absolutely part of why you *chose* him. Maybe he'd lost everyone who'd made up his old pack. Maybe he'd never *had* anyone. Maybe he'd been shunned right out of some religiously backwards -- well, I don't know. You'll tell me someday. 

"In any event, he was broken *so* badly, that you thought to yourself, somewhere not very deep inside you, at all, 'he won't turn *me* aside, no matter *how* monstrous I am.'" 

Jason grunts -- 

Treville raises his own eyebrow. 

Jason shudders -- 

Swallows -- 

"I thought.. that I could make Niklas happy. If only for the length of a mortal lifetime. I thought... that we could give each *other* that." 

"And he was kind to you? Warm?" 

"He was *funny*. And -- and *odd*. He'd been alone for so *long*. He had... dreams..." Jason looks into his memories for long moments -- and then very obviously stops. "He'd been kicked out of his village when he began to shift as an eleven-year-old. His dog had kept him alive, but his *human* education was spotty, at best. 

"He had, with his dog, built an entire philosophy-cum-*cosmology* to explain how the world *seemed* to work, according to their perceptions -- with the occasional flash of questionably *helpful* truth added by their connection to the All-Mother. I. 

"I loved *speaking* with him. I loved." 

"You loved him -- and you loved teaching him," Treville says. 

"Eventually, yes," Jason says, and smiles ruefully. "I rather tamped down my usual pedagogical instincts for as long as I *could* with Niklas. I wanted to know *his* mind. I wanted -- all of it." 

Treville squeezes his wrist again. "Even in its -- grief." 

"Oh, especially that. How the dog in him *crooned* whenever I had to leave them for longer than a few hours at a time. They had been *starved* of all companionship, amant. And I -- I drank that down. Until such time as he started wondering where I went when I *did* leave, and I had trained him enough that he could protect himself on our journeys into the wider world..." Jason trails off, staring into his memories again. 

"He met people." 

"He was the warmest, kindest -- *hungriest* --" Jason shakes his head. "I taught him how to avoid the people who would only try to take advantage of him. I did my *best* to make those lessons as painless as possible... He began to attract people who were hungry, as well. I couldn't blame them in the slightest. When you have been cold, when you have *existed* in darkness --" 

"You're not going to give up a place by the warm, cozy fire without a fight, no," Treville says, and nods. "But -- do you see what *I'm* saying?" 

Jason smiles wryly. "That once my dear love was positively surrounded by lovers who could feed him as he needed to be fed -- and feed *from* him as he needed to *feed* -- he was helpless not to do the *math*? Many versus *one*?" 

"I wonder, lover." 

"*What* do you wonder?" 

"I wonder how much time you spent pleading your case -- in *any* way -- once the others showed up." 

"I --" 

"I wonder how much time you spent showing *off* your dark *sides* *plural* -- your *cruel* sides --" 

"Stop." 

"-- once it became clear that you weren't the *only* one who could put a smile on your lover's face." And Treville raises his own eyebrow. 

"You're rather making me wonder what, precisely, you're trying to convince me of in this moment, Treville." 

"I'll remind you, lover: That I'm me, not him. That I'm your brother, not just another broken-down dog. That I'm your lover -- now and for the long haul. And that I know what I'm *doing* when I pick my brothers -- absolutely all of them -- even when I *am* broken." 

The flush steals over Jason's face slowly -- 

Dips down his throat -- 

Heats them *both* through the connection they have, through the connection they *built* *together* -- 

The connection that feels nothing but right. 

Treville nods. "Lover... I'm here. And I'm telling you that the man you loved all those years ago didn't know *shit* about what he was doing when he picked a pack for himself, and *neither did his dog*, because they were *both* broken, and *this* close -- or closer -- to *completely* mad, and." And Treville frowns. "I don't want to say the rest, lover." 

Jason closes his eyes and shudders precisely like Treville doesn't *have* to -- "You don't -- but I would like you to." 

"Jason --" 

"Treville…" And Jason opens his eyes and strokes Treville's cheek with his hard thumb again. "Please. It would help." 

Treville can't help but search the man for that, but -- 

But. He's open for this. Giving himself. 

*Offering*. Treville nods. "You didn't help him, lover. You didn't teach him *better* -- not the man and not the dog. You fed into their -- their *madness* by teaching them that hunger -- soul-hunger, skin-hunger, mind-hunger -- 

"You taught them that all of those could only be fed in certain ways, and that if they ever found people who *seemed* to be able to feed those needs in those ways, the only *possible* thing they could do is cleave to them, with all of themselves, no matter how awful those people were in other ways --" 

"I --" 

"No matter how much those people hurt the *other* people they cared about. Because, lover, they were starving once, and, in the end, you never taught them anything but to stuff their larders with both hands and *hoard* -- no matter what garbage they were stuffing their larders *with*," Treville says, and -- stops. And catches *both* of Jason's hands in his own -- 

"Don't -- please don't --" 

"Hold you? Comfort you?" 

Jason's laugh cracks like glass. "I... choose not to finish that thought." 

"Good." 

"Please hold me." 

"*Better*," Treville says, and *yanks* Jason into his arms, licking him all over his face and petting and pulling him in just as tight as he can. 

"Oh -- Diana's ten thousand *teats*, this feels..." Jason growls and squeezes him *bruisingly* hard. 

Treville shivers. "I never get enough of it. I never *let* myself get enough of it. We're both idiots. Let's fix that." 

"I..." 

"*Lover* --" 

"Tell me -- please tell me more about how you manage to *choose* worthy people --" 

"I let them bloody choose *me*." 

"But..." 

"Right, that. That wasn't true enough," Treville says, and nips Jason's scarred ear -- 

Nips it again to feel the slightly humped flesh -- 

"I wasn't lonely when I was young, Jason. I wasn't -- rejected or pushed aside or made to feel small or filthy or anything like that. Even when *I* thought I should've been. Even when I was *convinced* I should've been." 

"I... would very much like to know more about that..." 

"Short version," Treville says, and licks *behind* Jason's ear, "I fell deeply in *sexual* love with my father *and* several of my father's closest lieutenants, absolutely *none* of whom laid even one inappropriate finger on me, and absolutely *all* of whom kept any *other* inappropriate fingers from getting *near* me." 

"I -- hm. I... do go on." 

"More to the point: A handful of those lieutenants knew *exactly* how I felt about all of them, because I was even less subtle back then than I am now, and because *they* were all brilliant and honest men -- honest with me and with *themselves* --" 

"Oh, dear." 

"*More* to the point, those lieutenants did their damnedest to make sure that I *knew* -- with *all* of myself -- that there wasn't a damned thing wrong with me, or how I felt, or what I wanted, or what I did every night in my bedroll, or what I wanted to do in the various brothels they carted me off to starting at age thirteen." 

"I..." 

"Mm?" 

"I'm afraid I have to leave you for -- what are their names again? Do you know how they feel about older men?" 

Treville snorts and yanks on Jason's perfect hair. 

"Mm. Yes, I'll absolutely behave. And I understand what you're saying -- you believe you're... built on a stronger foundation than Niklas was." 

"I believe I'm built on a stronger foundation than nearly *everyone* is, lover," Treville says, pulling back enough to look Jason in the eye. "I'm a buggerer who dreamed of *incest* in entirely *romantic* ways for *years* -- and who *still* can't consider having a romantic relationship with *anyone* who I *don't* also consider a relative. I'm a witch in *this* country. I'm fourth-rate nobility at *best*," Treville says, and raises his eyebrows. "There are *countless* things about me which would make nearly *anyone* else in my situation spend their lives cringing and weeping their way to an early *suicide*. That -- that's not me." 

Jason's expression -- quirks.

And Treville gets it. He can't *not* get it, considering how this relationship -- this *day* -- started. He smiles wryly, pushing his fingers into that gorgeous hair and *tugging* a little, this time. "I'm built on a strong enough foundation that, when I *am* good and broken? I can always have my lead yanked until I'm on my way back to where I need to be." 

Jason... shivers. Right in Treville's arms. "You can have your lead yanked... by anyone, amant?" 

"No, lover. Only by the worthy," Treville says, looking right into Jason's eyes and -- promising.

Jason shudders this time, not shivers, and -- "I want to know you, amant. Everything about you. Everything about your *world*." 

"Then join me. Be *with* me. You already have business in Paris -- bloody set up *shop*, and --" 

"For how long," Jason says, and it's *not* a question -- and Jason's eyes are so dark and *pained* that it's obvious he hadn't wanted to say it, at all. 

Treville nods and licks Jason's mouth, corner and corner. "Stay with me. *Be* with me -- for just as long as you can manage it. And then? Come back every time you can manage *that*. And *then*, when you can manage *that*, just bloody stay." 

Jason's expression quirks again, but this time he's smiling. "You have a rather liberal way of calling a man to heel, amant..." 

Treville rumbles and licks Jason a little more -- 

And a little *more* -- 

Jason opens his mouth for it -- 

Even his *spit* tastes smoky -- 

(I spend a *significant* amount of time actively on fire...) 

Treville rumbles and rumbles and -- nips -- 

And Jason *grips* the back of Treville's neck and pulls him *back*. 

Treville pants, cock jerking hard -- 

Jason smiles slowly. "You were saying, amant...?" 

"I... haven't the faintest clue. Something about your cock?" 

That gets a *rich* laugh -- and a strong, *strong* hand around *his* cock.

"Fuck --" 

"We were speaking," Jason says, "about your curious methodology when you set out to call a man to *heel*," he says, and *strokes*.

"*Yes* -- I -- not just *any* man --" 

"No...?" 

"No -- no -- please harder --" 

Jason growls and squeezes *tight* -- 

Treville croons and *pants* -- 

"You're... more stringent with other men, amant?" 

And Treville knows he's going to *pay* for this, but -- he'd pay a lot more dearly, and a lot more *painfully*, for not being honest. For not being *himself*. 

"Very, very true," Jason says, and squeezes *hard* -- 

Treville *barks* -- 

"Good boy. Now give yourself to me. Tell me about your *methodology*." 

Treville whines and *writhes* -- 

"Do not make me *wait*, amant," Jason says, and *eases* his grip -- 

"Fuck -- I -- *Jason*, I --" And Treville yips a laugh -- 

And another -- 

And another and another after *that* -- 

Jason's eyes are *sparkling*. "Do tell." 

Treville lolls his tongue -- just for a moment. "I'm strict with the *men* I'm calling to heel, lover -- and the dogs, too. I... mm. I know just a bit better than that... when it comes to the *cats* of my acquaintance." 

Jason *blinks* -- 

Treville snickers *precisely* like the arsehole he *is* -- 

And doesn't actually *stop* snickering until he's spread out on his back with his wrists and ankles tied-up tight with... something -- 

"Shadows, amant." 

"Right, but --" 

"I control them. I *own* them. And they will *help* me own *you*," Jason says, and spreads Treville's legs wider with a *gesture*. 

Treville yelps -- and laughs breathlessly. "If I promise to behave --" 

"I'll *consider* believing you... but you were saying?" 

Treville laughs harder. "If I *promise* to behave, will you bloody teach me how to *do* this?" 

Jason grins like -- a mortal man. Not a boy. "As if you haven't *reveled* in every bit of *wriggling* and *writhing* and *kicking* and *flailing* you've moved your paramours to do..." 

Treville licks his lips and thinks about... a lot of different things... 

Jason laughs hard and smacks his *cock* -- 

Treville *yelps* again -- "All right, I'm only thinking of one thing again," he says, and grins. 

Jason hums and licks his fingers slowly and *showily*. 

"Two things. Possibly three." 

Jason snorts again. "Amant." 

Treville closes his eyes and -- breathes, just for a moment. Musk, spend, brandy, slick, sweat -- and so much of *Jason*. 

Jason's smoke, Jason's metal, Jason's corruption and Jason's *power*, heavy as a collar, thick as a *lead*. 

Treville rumbles and opens his eyes again. "You make me... light. Lighter than I've been..." He smiles ruefully. "And I'd appreciate not finishing that thought." 

"So long as we *both* remember not to try to *imprison* you with me... well. We never, ever have to. Do we," Jason says, and runs his short nail up the underside of Treville's cock -- 

"*Fuck* -- I. Yes. Yes, to whatever you just said --" 

Jason snickers. "I think you'd find ways to crack jokes through a *whipping*." 

"*I* think we should test that theory as vigorously as possible," Treville says, and nods judiciously. 

"Mm. You *do* have *quite* a few fascinating fantasies about your Laurent *striping* your hide..." 

Treville sighs. "The thing is? Part of me actually *did* know that I could talk him into it." 

"I *know*." 

Treville snorts ruefully. "Right. I -- right. Sorry --" 

"Shh. You've nothing to apologize for. I can see other things in your mind, amant. I can see things that would shake even the *fantastically* strong foundations of a man like you..." 

Treville -- winces. "They really did all... reject -- but." Treville frowns and *studies* the memories of Honoré pushing him back so gently -- 

Of Reynard shaking his head and blushing hard enough to clash with his freckles even in the *moonlight* -- 

Of *Laurent* staring at him as if there had never been anything more strange or confusing than being desired by -- Treville. 

The memories are the *same*. But -- 

"The *emotions* they engender are *not* the same. Are they, amant." 

"Bloody -- I can't -- all I can see is all the ways I could've changed this, or this -- all the questions I might've asked them, after just a little while -- or no time, at all! All the ways I could've *pushed*, or -- or -- *fuck*, Jason!" 

Jason smiles at him wryly. "*I* didn't change a thing, before you ask. I *could* have -- I have the power for it -- but it would've been a rather bruised and *scarring* affair. I'm no spirit-mage. No, you said it yourself, amant: You're built on a stronger foundation than the *overwhelming* majority of people on the *numberless* spheres, and, in the end, even when you are *utterly* broken, you *can* be pulled back from the brink by... the worthy," Jason says, raising an eyebrow and smiling even more wryly. 

"I." 

"Mm? *Oh*, yes: *do* try to avoid going *decades* without the discipline and *care* you require in future, amant. It does *terrible* things to your ability to think clearly."

Treville stares.

Jason hums and gestures -- a shadow spirals its way out of his fingertips and around and around and *around* Treville's cock. 

"You're right; let's think about other things."


	5. If you want a friend, feed any animal.

"*Did* you have preferences, amant...?" 

"Yes: You playing with me like your *favourite* toy. The one that winds up beat all to hell, but put away lovingly *every* time." 

Jason laughs *delightedly*. "*That* isn't a Laurent fantasy...?" 

"Mm, no. Older. Faceless," Treville says, arching up and testing at the shadow-ropes a little -- no give, whatsoever. Wonderful. "I remember..." 

"Yes...?" 

Treville grins and rolls his head back and forth on the pillow a little bit -- 

Rumbles -- 

"I remember dreaming up the beginnings of it when I was -- young. Twelve or thirteen." 

"*Really*. Do go on..." 

"Mm. I would like to take this opportunity to let you know that I want to hear about *all* your fantasies, lover." 

Jason makes a soft, hungry sound -- 

Treville can hear him moving closer -- 

And then he's there, looking down at Treville from beside the bed -- 

Stroking Treville's throat with his fingertips -- 

"All of them, amant...?"

"I need to know you, lover," Treville says, and lets it be as serious, as *true*, as it is. "I need to know my *brother*." 

When Jason growls, this time, it comes from every corner of the room -- and, seemingly, from Treville's own *spine*. It -- 

Treville is arching as much as he can in the shadow-ropes and *gasping* -- 

Panting -- 

His cock is jerking while he *writhes* -- 

And then Jason *shoves* him down with a hand on his chest -- "*Focus*." 

Treville *grunts* -- and does just that. "Yes -- yes, Jason." 

"Good boy," Jason says, and *burns* at him. 

"Please --" 

"I will not ever hide from you, amant..." 

And -- that was a threat because it had to be. 

*Had* to be. 

Treville will take it. "Thank you, Jason," he says, and does his best to offer his throat and belly -- 

Jason growls again and *rakes* his -- human-enough -- nails down Treville's throat to his chest to his belly to his *cock* -- 

"Please, *yes* --" 

"Tell me," Jason says, and grips Treville's *bollocks* -- 

"Ah -- please -- I mean *yes* --" 

"Tell me about the *fantasy*." 

"I dreamed about my Dad's lieutenants, Jason -- their perfect *hands* --" 

"Hard. Hard-*worked*." 

"*Yes*. Big -- bigger than mine -- that was less important as I got older --" 

"Mm. I wonder why..." And the shadow around Treville's cock tightens *viciously* -- 

Treville *barks* -- and yips a laugh. "I'm -- I'm sure I don't know what you're -- talking --" 

"Tell me more, amant..." 

"I'm -- not tied. I was at first, in the original --" 

"When it was less faceless...?" 

"Yes -- yes --" 

"Very well. Go on," Jason says and pumps Treville's bollocks once -- 

Twice -- 

Three times *hard* -- 

"*Please*! Please more!" 

Jason hums. "You're earning many, many rewards, amant... and you'll get them *all*. But first...?" 

Treville croons -- "Yes, Jason. I -- I'm not *tied*. At first there are multiple -- more than one man. They're all -- I'm being passed *around* --" 

"They *are* all soldiers...?" 

"Yes --" 

"But *not* your father's men." 

Treville whuffs and -- dreams. "No, Jason. They're not careful enough for that. Not so..." Treville rumbles. "My Dad's men would never bruise me, cut me. Not like that. Maybe -- maybe not even if I -- begged." 

Jason makes another hungry sound -- and the shadow round Treville's cock binds the whole thing in something like a *cocoon* -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

And then starts to *massage* it *violently* -- 

"HNH -- I -- I --" 

"Do you like that, amant...?" 

"I -- I don't know --" 

"Does it *hurt*." 

"Yes! I -- m-maybe -- not the right *way* -- *please* --" 

"Perhaps you need... a sharper pain?" 

"U-usually -- slaps -- I --" Treville croons helplessly -- 

Tosses his head -- 

The shadow *flexes* around him so -- 

So -- 

And Treville can't help *bucking* into the cocoon and *yipping* again, because that's -- that's *different* -- 

Painful and -- 

"Better, amant...?"

"I'm -- I'm willing to *experiment* with this -- extensively --" 

Jason snorts -- "Oh, *amant*..." Jason starts smacking Treville's bollocks *while* the shadow works Treville's cock -- 

Smacking them -- just a *little* hard -- 

Not hard *enough* -- 

Treville can't keep himself from trying to shove into it -- 

Jason laughs harder. "Oh, amant... you're on *my* time now." 

That's only correct. Only -- so good. So *good* --

"Mm. I *agree*. About those cuts and bruises..." 

"Yes -- *yes* --" 

"Where...? Where is your beautiful body *marked*." 

Treville pants -- 

Pants and *whines* -- 

Tries to -- no, he has to *talk* -- "All -- all *over* --" 

Jason sighs out a breath. "This... is where I *usually* make a point of asking just a *few* questions -- questions designed to *confirm* that my lover *truly* means what they had just said..." 

"I *do*!" 

"I know, amant. I know that with... every drop of blood in *your* veins." 

"Yes -- I --" 

"And you're going to give me more of that tonight..." 

"I --" 

But Treville can't say a word, because shadows rush to the bed from every corner of the room -- 

Shadows darken the *world* -- except for the ones which gleam *slickly* in the firelight, gleam like *wet* metal -- 

Treville can't keep himself from arching again, from *offering* -- 

His heart is *pounding* -- 

He can't *breathe* properly --

He doesn't *know* what he's offering -- 

"No. You. *Don't*," Jason says, and a dozen -- more -- of the shadows strike at *once*, all over Treville's body -- 

Arms and legs and belly and inner thighs and *throat* -- 

Bollocks and feet and palms and *nipples* -- 

All over, all *over*, and Treville is howling before he knows what's happened, before he *understands* what's been *done* -- 

He's aching, burning, stunned -- 

And then -- 

And then he feels the wetness slipping down and down over his skin to the sheets -- 

All over all -- 

He's bleeding. 

He's -- 

Oh -- he's been whipped. He's been -- 

And he feels the staggering *shock* where all those shadows had hit, where -- 

There were so *many* whips at *once*, and -- 

Oh, and -- 

He's going to bruise. He's -- 

He's going to bruise all *over*, and there are thin little scratches -- 

He'll *heal* -- the magic won't let him do anything else -- but -- 

Oh -- 

And Treville hears himself whuffing himself *up* to yips, shocked and *thrilled* yips, and he's grinning, and there are *tears* in his eyes, and he can't *see* Jason properly anymore, but he has to make him see, let him know, let him *see* -- 

"I see, amant... but can you tell me...? Is it right?" And Jason's eyes are so hungry, so hot, so *hungry* --

"It -- it --" And Treville croons and croons and *growls* at himself in frustration, tries to focus on the *man* in himself, tries to make *him* focus -- 

It's just that he's never -- 

It's just that there's never *been* anything -- 

Not anyone -- 

And he *hasn't* -- 

And he needs --

He needs this so *badly* -- 

He's crooning so *loudly* -- 

"Shh, shh... all is well," Jason says, and the shadow round Treville's cock starts pumping his *knot* -- 

Treville barks *helplessly*, jerked *down* into his body, into the ache, into the -- the *rut*, because he's hot all over, and now he knows it again -- 

Now he can't help but *feel* it again -- 

Jason is pumping and *pumping* -- 

Treville *fucks* up into the shadow and *aches* -- 

He can't -- 

He can't *see* -- 

"We'll revisit the *conversation*... in just a little while," Jason says, and he's smiling so *happily* -- 

Licking his lips -- 

*Studying* Treville as he gestures *sharply* --

The shadows *strike* -- 

Treville *gasps* -- 

"Will you howl?" 

Treville opens his mouth to speak -- 

To say -- 

To -- to -- 

But sweat slips down from his cheek, down into his mouth, and -- he can taste himself, taste all the *workings* on him, the magic in him and *on* him -- 

Taste himself burning, taste himself *hurting* -- 

"For me, amant. For *me*." 

Treville's stomach drops as his cock jerks *hard* in its cocoon -- 

He hasn't had -- 

He hasn't *had* -- 

And Jason's growl takes the *world* again -- 

Rolls through Treville's whole *body* -- 

He can't *hear* the sounds he's making -- 

"But *I* can, amant. I -- mm. You're beautiful. *Beautiful*," Jason says, and -- "Here..." 

The shadows strike again -- 

*Again* -- 

And now there's wetness on Treville's face that he doesn't -- 

That isn't *sweat* -- 

Is he weeping? 

Is that truly -- 

"Do you never weep in your beautiful dreams, amant...?" 

I -- I -- 

"Let me teach you *how*," Jason says, and shadows *take* Treville, move him, *manhandle* him -- 

He's on his knees -- 

His *hands* and knees -- 

He's gasping and crooning and he can't move, he can't *move* -- 

"No. You. *Can't*," Jason says, and that's *his* hand in Treville's hair, on the back of Treville's head -- 

Shoving *down* -- 

Grinding Treville's *face* into the *sheets* -- 

And Treville tries to lift his arse higher against the *pull* of the shadows before he can think, before -- 

"Oh... oh, *amant*. That's an *excellent* idea," Jason says, and the shadows *haul* Treville's arse *up* -- 

Lift him -- 

Treville *yelps* -- and *chokes* on it, because the strikes, the *blows*, come hard now, come *fast*, come -- 

So fast and -- 

All *over* his back, his legs, his *arms* -- 

Treville *screams* a howl -- 

"*Good* boy --" 

Treville's cock *spasms* in its gaol, spits *slick* that the shadow immediately slides over and over and *over* it -- 

Treville fucks in-in-*in* -- 

The shadows strike *faster* -- 

Treville howls again, *again* -- 

Is he clawing at the sheets?

Is he biting? 

Is he -- is he doing *right* -- 

"You *are*, amant. You -- and you're *about* to do even *better*," Jason says, and his voice is rough, low, hungry, desperate -- 

Treville can feel how hard he is, how -- 

How much hungrier he's *getting*, seemingly with every *strike* -- 

And Jason laughs *breathlessly* -- "I *feel* you with every *shadow*, amant. I feel you and breathe you and *taste* you --" Jason snarls. "Every one of your cries strokes my *cock*. Go on. *Bleed* more," he says, and strikes -- 

Strikes -- 

*Strikes* and Treville spasms for it, *aches* --

Sobs and -- and he's fucking the shadow even faster, so *raggedly* -- 

"Oh -- oh, *yes*, amant. Here, for *you*," Jason says, and shadows spread Treville's arse *wide* -- 

Something slick and springy-hot-*thick* just -- 

Just rams *in* -- 

Jason is snarling and -- is he snapping? At the air -- 

Treville *means* to howl but sobs again -- 

*Again* -- 

He's grinding his *own* face into the sheets -- 

Trying to scrub himself *clean*, trying to --

"Oh -- *that's* not allowed, amant," Jason says, panting and -- 

And Treville can smell his sweat, smell his *slick* -- 

Jason *yanks* Treville's head up again, holds him there by the hair while Treville whines and sobs and whines and -- 

Clenches on -- on that huge *thing* -- 

Jason *coughs* a growl -- 

His slick spatters Treville's wet *cheek* -- 

Treville *can't* -- 

"You *can*. Look how you're fucking my shadow..." 

"I -- "

"Look how you're *taking* my *other* shadow right up your tight, beautiful *arse*." 

"*HNH* -- *please* --" 

"You were built for it, amant. You --" Jason pants and *growls* -- 

Treville clenches again helplessly and *barks* --

Jason pants and shudders and *grips* Treville's hair *painfully* tight -- 

The shadows striking Treville's back and legs and arms over and over *also* shudder -- 

Treville croons and tries to writhe, tries to take them, tries to *get* to them -- 

"Oh -- Hecate's dripping *cunt*, amant -- I will not *stop*," Jason says, holding him tight, holding him so -- 

But he's *not* holding Treville still, not -- 

"That's. That's right, amant -- I am *only* holding you in *place*. Now fuck my shadow and work. Your. *Arse*." 

Treville yips and obeys, just *obeys*, and he feels himself burning for it, feels himself crooning and opening and -- 

And -- 

It's so hard not to just flex open and take it, not to just lower himself to his forelimbs and take it, not to just give his Jason, his *Jason*, everything he wants, everything he *craves* -- 

Jason's hand *flexes* in Treville's hair -- 

He growls and *shakes* -- 

"But you *are* giving me everything..." 

Treville croons and *shoves* into the shadow again -- 

Again-again-again, and it's tighter now, the slick is *hotter*, somehow *hotter*, like he's fucking his way into liquid fire, welcoming *fire* that licks its way into every part of him, licks him harder, needier -- 

Makes him *ache* -- 

Jason *growls* a laugh -- "That would be Etrigan..." 

Treville doesn't understand -- 

He's burning and he doesn't *understand* -- 

He's -- he's *sobbing*, and -- 

There -- 

Blood and tears are pattering down to the sheets, but Jason is taking all the slick, all the *sweat* -- 

"I'll take everything *else*, too, soon enough... but you should *smell* yourself, amant. You should... mm. You should know yourself in *this* moment. When you're *mine*." 

Treville gasps and bucks -- 

Flexes *open* -- 

"*Very* nice -- but *clench*."

Treville whimpers and obeys, *gives*, takes -- 

He needs -- 

He *needs* -- 

"*What* do you... oh. Oh, I see. You beautiful *hound*," Jason says, and yanks Treville up to his knees by his grip on his hair -- 

Replaces the shadow on Treville's cock with his rough and perfect hand, squeezing *violently* -- 

Treville *howls* -- 

"*Mine*," Jason says, and *backhands* Treville with the other hand -- 

Treville coughs and *rocks* in the shadows' grip, cock spitting slick *again* -- 

He can't -- 

He can't *see* properly -- 

He's reeling and *drooling* blood and spit -- 

He's crooning and bucking and begging, begging so -- but is it loud enough? Right enough? He *needs* -- 

He has to do *right* for his Jason -- 

He fucks and *fucks* up into Jason's *perfect* hand, and yes, yes, he can work his arse, he can't do anything *else* -- 

He *won't* do anything else -- 

He -- 

He'll *never* -- 

"You're *perfect*, I -- *again*," Jason says, and backhands him again -- 

Treville *yelps* as his cock spasms and jerks, as he nods in desperate pleasure, desperate *joy* -- 

As he clenches so tightly the shadow has to force him open -- 

Force him -- 

Oh, open so wide, so -- 

"*Wider*," Jason says, and the shadow in his arse is bigger and thicker and *hotter* -- 

Treville screams and whines and *whines* -- 

Feels his eyes open wide, but he can't -- 

He still can't *see* --

"You will *never* be free, amant," Jason says, low and rough and *guttural* in the moments before he *bites* Treville's bloody lip -- 

Treville feels himself go *rigid* as his cock *spasms* --

And then he *can* see, just for a moment, just for a *flash* as Jason *demands* his focus: Jason's eyes flaring red -- 

Jason smiling so *happily*, so hungrily, so -- 

As needy as *he* feels, as desperate and --

And *wild* -- 

(For *you*, amant. For -- for *us*.) 

Please --

(*Now*,) Jason says, growling into Treville's mouth -- 

Growling into Treville's blood-soul-*spine* -- 

Burning into his *eyes* --

And Treville is blind with it, spending himself burning-hot and mindless, wild and sharp and *mindless* -- 

Jason is working his *knot* with a shaking hand -- 

Jason is still fucking his arse with that massive *shadow* -- 

Trembling -- 

*Shuddering* -- 

Jason is laughing *delightedly* into Treville's sore *mouth* -- and Treville knows, *knows* that he's making some kind of noise for this -- 

But all he can feel -- all he can *perceive* -- is the white-hot pulsing *flares* of pleasure *wracking* him again and *again* -- 

And wracking Jason, too, as he *shouts* into Treville's mouth and spurts shockingly *hot* spend all over Treville's cock and belly -- and even *hotter* spend up Treville's *arse* through the *shadow*. 

Treville gasps and *writhes* through it -- 

Tries to *shove* himself into everything pulling them together -- 

*Braiding* them together right down to where they're made and -- 

Please. 

Please, yes, *Jason* -- 

(Always, amant...) 

*Please* -- 

(Shh... rest.) 

Don't -- I don't want -- 

(Shh. I won't leave you. I couldn't ever do that.) 

Every part of Treville's *being* eases for that, letting him breathe and exist and feel -- 

Feel himself being laid down on the bed -- 

Feel Jason laying himself out beside him -- 

Treville tries to reach out -- 

(Rest. I'm here,) Jason says, and moves much closer. Much better. 

Treville can't open his eyes, yet, but -- 

It's better. 

Treville rumbles himself down into the black.


	6. Wait, you're actually taking time to... think? About something?

Treville *jerks* awake for no reason he can figure whatsoever, since none of *his* internal alarms are going off -- he's neither dangerously drunk, late for reveille, being shot at, or in danger of rolling over on top of a likely young boy -- but -- 

And *then* the *very* special man beside him snorts *loudly*, and several -- 

Many more than several things become clear. 

Treville smiles ruefully and -- kneels up. Jason had put him on his belly. "Time to go do my job --" 

"You have a *bit* of time, amant -- the individual searching for you is still at *least* five miles away, judging by the strength of the summons." 

"Yes? Well, all right then," Treville says, giving himself a stretch and scratching at his beard, which must be -- hm. 

It's *not* mussed too badly. It doesn't feel like there's *any* dried blood in it, despite those backhands. It...

Treville gives himself a good once-over, eyes *and* hands...

No dried blood.

No dried spend. 

No dried *sweat*. 

"I did *say* that I wouldn't be letting any of that go to waste, amant," Jason says, and -- 

Treville gives *him* a good once-over -- he's sitting up against the headboard with a big, thick book which. "Is that. That book is alive. Isn't it." 

"Mm. *Many* philosophers have debated at *length* on that *very* question, amant," Jason says, and turns a page -- 

Uses shadows to restrain the book more firmly to keep it from *snapping* at him -- 

Banishes the eldritch fog emanating from it... somewhere...

"Hm. Are you going to make *me* read that book?" 

"Not unless you *truly* irritate me."

"Well. I'll keep that in mind." 

"Thank you." 

"Did you get any rest?" 

Jason hums and smiles at him, warm and -- loving. *Loving*. "I rested... wonderfully. I haven't had a lover..." His smile turns rueful, and he pushes the book into -- nothingness before kneeling up to face Treville and cupping his cheek. 

Treville rumbles and turns to nuzzle that hard, hard palm -- and lick -- 

"Beautiful hound..." 

"Mm. Do we have time to... something?"

"I don't suppose..." 

"Mm? I mean, *yes*, but what?"

Jason laughs with *quiet* delight -- 

And Treville grins and *nips* the heel of Jason's palm. "I *like* your ideas, lover. Those -- mm. Shadow-whips? So..." Treville rumbles more and gives himself a shake. "And you felt them. All over?" 

Jason grins. "I can *choose* where I feel the shadows, amant." 

"Oh... mm. So where *were* you choosing to feel them...?" And Treville lolls his tongue just a trifle obnoxiously -- 

Jason laughs more. "My *magic*, amant. I -- all *through* my magic." 

"I." Treville frowns *helplessly*. 

Jason laughs raucously. "Oh, you *earth*-mages. Always so *visceral* about things. *One* day I'm going to *ask* the All-Mother why She lets you all *be* that way." 

"*What* way?" 

"Even the most *powerful* among you all -- like *you* -- will *reach* for the numinous -- and *perceive* the numinous -- *physically*. As though it were all something which could be *gripped* in your admirably powerful *fists*." 

Treville raises an eyebrow. "It's worked for me pretty well thus *far*, lover." 

"I *know*. You're *here*," Jason says, and laughs more. "It works for nearly *all* of you, truly. It works *so* well that it winds up *centering* you all *ludicrously* powerfully -- ludicrously *solidly* -- in your own bodies, and your own spirits, and your own... selves." And Jason raises an eyebrow *back*. 

Treville thinks about that for a moment... and nods. "You're accustomed to a life where a greater degree of flexibility is to be... preferred."

"To say the *least*, amant," Jason says, and smiles wryly -- more at himself than at Treville, though, and -- 

That makes sense, too. "You'd like -- an ally. For *your* warring." 

Jason *starts* to smile wryly again -- stops that and parts his lips for a moment. 

"Oh --" 

"More than an ally. More than that. Please." 

Treville pushes a hand into Jason's hair and grips. "I can't --" He growls and shakes his head. "Laurent gives me a long and *light* lead, lover --" 

"You've resented that..." 

"I have. But I could resent it *less*... with something to *do* with myself which doesn't lead to fruitless pain and *despair*," Treville says, and offers his own wry smile. "With -- a brother. For *this* war." 

Jason shivers and takes Treville's other hand -- 

Twines their fingers together and *squeezes* -- 

"I will give you everything, amant. I -- I know no other way to say that," he says, and smiles crookedly. 

"I can think of a few..." 

"Yes...?" 

Treville nods judiciously. "They mostly involve me curling up at your feet with your *collar* around my *throat*, but there are some few --" 

And that's Jason's *hand* around his throat -- and *not* squeezing, even though he's growling and *burning* at Treville. 

Treville breathes. "I wasn't joking." 

"I know. I... I need to ask you..." Jason winces and turns away. 

"*Ask*. Ask *anything*." 

"I need to ask you if you will *wait* for your collar." 

Treville blinks. "I... yes? If you need me to, lover. But --" 

"I would like..." Jason smiles crookedly again. "I would like for you to introduce me to your -- other brothers. First." 

And that -- Treville grins helplessly, leaning in to lick Jason all over his face. 

"Oh -- *amant* --" 

"Brother. I -- mm. Anything," Treville says, and licks more -- 

More and more -- 

"*Anything*."

The courier can wait just a little longer.


	7. When all else fails, beat Treville. Honestly, that's the alternate summary of this fic.

As travel goes, walking one's actively murderous horse through the distressingly *populated* spaces between the spheres to move near-instantaneously from one place to another *would* be reasonably fine -- 

"I did *tell* you not to look at anything but the back of my mail, amant." 

Treville nods. 

He's good at nodding. 

Nodding is a thing he can do, so he's doing it, because if he does anything else, he might have to think. 

He doesn't want to do that right now. 

Jason coughs. "Amant." 

"Are you laughing? Are you laughing at me right now?" 

"Perhaps a *trifle*...?" And Jason is *absolutely* humming, and smiling at him warmly, and his eyes are eyes and not shrieking pits to nothingness, and Treville is patting Éventreur -- 

*Éventreur*, not a nightmarish *hellbeast* -- 

"Hm, well, I have some questions about how you came to be certain of that..."

Éventreur whickers at Jason. Pointedly. 

"You tell him, boy. Don't take any disrespect --" 

Éventreur snaps at his hand -- 

Treville dodges -- and pats other places. "There's my boy." 

Jason snorts. "*Shall* we?" 

"Where *are* we -- oh. We're not far from the garrison, at all. I've fucked all *kinds* of people in this alley," Treville says, grinning and dodging another attempted bite so he can get a good grip on Éventreur's lead-rope. 

"Mm. I can *taste* it," Jason says, smiling sharply and moving to Treville's side once there's space to do so. 

"Can you, now." 

"I can also taste you in *that* alley*," he says, and nods -- 

"Well --" 

"And *that* one..." 

"I --" 

"And *under* that *cart* --" 

"To be fair, I was *very* drunk --" 

Jason laughs richly. "I love you madly, brother," he says, and -- that really was the first time. 

Except for how it wasn't, at all. Treville tips his hat to the man. "I'm in love with you." 

Jason colours and grins -- 

And they walk through the market and into the garrison, pausing to greet the men on the watch, who, of course, know exactly when Treville was *supposed* to be back -- 

Know exactly how much shit Treville was *in* -- 

Well. Time to *do* something about that. 

They move through the garrison quickly and easily, Treville only pausing to *collect* Kitos from his never-ending quest to turn the quartermasters into the omniscient, omnipresent, and all-round terrifying miracle-workers the King's Musketeers need them to be -- 

To collect *Reynard* from his never-ending quest to turn their latest batch of cadets into walking, talking, breathing *weapons* for -- well, for whoever's strong enough to *wield* them, and *something* help them all if it *isn't* the Crown -- 

And the questions in their eyes are legion, especially since he doesn't say *enough* about who Jason *is* -- but. 

"Upstairs, brothers," Treville says, and looks them both in the eye. *Gives* them himself. "*With* Laurent." 

Kitos nods, once -- and pretends not to be worried.

Reynard nods and pretends that he isn't eyeing Jason like something which might need to be *filleted* -- 

*Jason* keeps his own counsel -- and *doesn't* pretend that he isn't thinking about loneliness. 

Treville reaches for him helplessly -- 

(I think, amant, that you should wait just a *little* longer before you... *show* our connection.) 

Treville winces -- You have a point. 

Jason smiles wryly. (Soon?) 

*Soon*, Treville says, and picks up the pace, forcing his brothers to do the same -- 

Kitos and Reynard are giving him *looks* for this, but -- 

"It's important, lads. It's -- I *need* you all to know this," Treville says, walks even faster. 

"Dieu, as you *say*," Reynard says, and shoots Jason another *look* -- 

Moves to walk *behind* him -- 

In range of *several* attacks -- 

His weapon. Always. 

And then they're on the stairs -- 

And Laurent is stepping out of his office and onto the walk before they're even all up the stairs. His eyebrow is up, but he doesn't say a *word* before he gestures them all in -- curtly, because Jason is there. 

Treville has to fix that *immediately*. 

He -- he growls -- "Shut the door, Reynard -- I've a lot of things to say." 

Reynard does it, and then keeps his hands near his *weapons* -- 

Kitos is in the best possible position to *flank* -- 

And *Laurent* -- "Treville. Begin with the status of your *mission*," he says, for all that his *eyes* are searching Treville's for -- any number of things. 

Treville smiles wryly and pulls the packet of documents out of his saddlebag. "Completed, brother. Not one hitch, everything carried out smoothly and on time." 

"And yet you've returned early... and with a friend." 

Treville cups Jason's shoulder. "This is Ser Jason Blood. He's an immortal British blood-, fire-, and shadow-mage I met while I was waiting for the courier to arrive. He's also my lover, and my brother. And I fully intend to make him *all* of ours, because, *just* like all of you, he's worth everything. Everything we can *all* give." 

And the silence for that -- 

Lasts. 

And *lasts* -- 

Treville *growls* -- 

And then Kitos *thunders* laughter. "Oh, give us a bloody *minute*, Fearless!" 

"*No* --" 

"Shut it! Laurent sent you on that shit detail to get your *head* on straight! To get your muzzle out of the bottle for half a bloody *second* --" 

"I -- I *know* --" 

Jason clears his throat -- and *looks* at Treville. "I *believe* your brother --" 

"*You're* my brother, too!" 

"Be that as it *may*, amant... your *Kitos* would like for you to *remember* that I am something of a *shock*." 

Treville narrows his eyes -- 

"That! Bloody that!" 

"What other secrets are you keeping? Mm?" And Reynard sounds -- 

"Oh fuck -- fox-face --" And Kitos uses his *phenomenal* speed to wrap Reynard up before he can actually *pull* a weapon -- 

"I'm not keeping *any* secrets," Treville says, and tries to just -- no. No. He has to be honest. He has to not *fuck this up*. 

He takes a *breath*. 

He looks to *Laurent*, who has two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and hasn't said one word. "Laurent, I -- *brothers*. I'm not keeping any secrets *anymore*. I won't. I *can't*. All right? I don't want *any* of us keeping secrets from *any* of us." 

That makes Laurent narrow his eyes -- 

And Kitos stiffen -- 

And Reynard inhale *sharply*. 

Treville laughs ruefully. "That, brothers. *That*. I told myself -- you all knew my secrets. I told myself that you knew everything about me. That you all knew I was in *love* with all of you, that you all knew that I'd been -- *mooning* after you since we'd all *met* --" 

Laurent -- snaps the top slat of his chair. One-handed. 

And everyone stops breathing. 

And then Treville raises an eyebrow --

And Laurent flushes right down into his *tunic* -- and takes a slow, even breath. 

They all follow suit. 

"Brother," Laurent says, after a moment. "You're saying... that you assumed that we knew of your love, and that we were merely... tolerating it in silence. That we didn't *return* your *feelings*." 

Treville nods. "That's about the size of it. I thought -- 'well, I'll behave myself. I won't push. I won't make an *arse* of myself --'" 

"Just a moment, fox-face," Kitos says -- 

"Ah, oui, oui --" 

And Kitos releases Reynard for just long enough to smack Treville hard enough to send him *reeling*. 

Treville focuses on blinking the stars out of his vision -- 

"So... Ser Jason." 

"Yes, Lieutenant Kitos?" 

"I -- no, please just call me Kitos, hey?" 

Jason grins. "Truly? Then, please, I insist that you call me Jason." 

Kitos nods. "Thanks, mate. But uh..." 

"Mm?" 

Kitos gestures vaguely between Jason and Treville. "You uh... twisted his head back on the right way." 

Jason smiles at *him*. "He will never be *far* from where he *needs* to be, I don't think. I... was in the right place, for him --" 

"More than *that* --" 

"Do shut it, amant." 

"I --" 

Kitos whallops him again --

"*Fuck* --" 

"Anyway," Kitos says, "like I was saying, you -- got him back to where he needed to be... and maybe did that in more than *one* way...?" And Kitos raises those wonderful bushy eyebrows. 

Jason hums. "It was clear, from *nearly* the first moment we began conversing, that his brothers were even more important to him, more *vital* to his *existence*, than the brothers of any good soldier *should* be." 

Reynard shivers, less brandishing his dagger than *fiddling* with it *nervously*. "He is ours. He is notre meneur. He is -- he is ma *vie*. I am his *weapon*. And." And Reynard looks to him. "I did not know myself so well when you tried to kiss me, cheri. I -- I sometimes do not think that I know myself so well *now*, but. I. I know myself better. I promise you this." 

Treville stares. He can't *breathe* around -- that. Around everything he wants to *say* to that -- 

And then Kitos's great paw is on his chin, tilting his face up -- and up -- "What fox-face said, hey?" He smiles ruefully. "I didn't know shit about shit when I was seventeen -- all I knew was that you felt perfect in my arms... all the time. After you tried to kiss me... well, I spent some time thinking. But I didn't come up with the *right* answer until. Until after you stopped... trying." 

Treville takes a shuddering breath -- "You -- thought I'd stopped... wanting." 

"Thought you were just a little too drunk that day, Fearless. It happens." 

Treville swallows and shakes his *head* -- 

"I thought," Laurent says, and *stops* -- 

Kitos turns Treville's entire *body* toward Laurent -- 

*Holds him in place* -- 

"I -- I'm not going to try to make a *break* for it --" 

Jason sends shadows out to *lash* him in place -- 

He can't move anything but his *face* -- 

Kitos rumbles his approval. "Handy, that. Good job, mate." 

"Ah, oui," Reynard says. "It is true that notre meneur sometimes needs a very firm hand." 

"I live to serve," Jason says, and smiles -- happily, not teasingly. 

And Laurent turns to *him*. "Do you?"

Jason raises an eyebrow -- "I was knighted when I was fifteen years old, Captain de la Fère. I can no longer be certain whether that was closer to six hundred or seven hundred years ago, now, but... it is who I am. More than any other thing." 

"Even... but you have not said whether or not you have a liege." 

Jason smiles *softly*. "I do not. But I do my best to live as though I still do. To anticipate your next question, you'd know my previous liege as Arthur, King of All Britons." 

The silence for *that*... lasts. 

For a bit. 

And then Laurent nods slowly and *hungrily*. "I would very much enjoy spending... an extended period of time in detailed conversation with you, Ser Jason." 

Jason smiles delightedly. "I've had the precise same thought about *you* since Treville first began speaking of you." 

Laurent flares his nostrils once -- 

Twice -- 

"One moment," he says, and turns to *Treville*. His eyes are hot and wild and -- 

And Treville tries to stands straight *reflexively* -- 

The shadows won't let him move a *muscle* -- until they do, and he can.

He can come to attention, just like he should. 

Laurent *growls* -- "Brother." 

"Yes." 

"I thought, for a very long time, that your desires for me -- and I did know they existed -- were casual, only. That they were... passing whims that struck you, from time to time, in moments of *curiosity*." 

Treville blinks and *stares* -- 

Laurent bares his *teeth* -- "I *thought* myself too strange for you, too off-putting, too conservative, too --" He *snarls* -- stops. 

And breathes. 

And breathes -- 

They all breathe with him -- 

"Brother," Laurent says, and his voice is -- shaking.

"Yes, I -- none of those things were ever *true* --" 

"Wait. I remember -- one night. The night Henri gave us our commissions." 

Treville swallows and nods. "I... tried to make a move on you." 

"Yes, you did. And you were... different. Every *other* time that it *seemed* you were offering yourself to me... you never went so far as making it a proposition. You had always left things... ambiguous." 

"I --" 

"Shh. I hurt you, that night," Laurent says, and looks at him -- into him. "I hurt you, with my confusion, and my... when I peppered you with my endless *questions* instead of sharing with you, at long last, what I *felt*." 

Treville -- winces. "Brother..." 

"Please tell me. Please share *this* honesty." 

And -- if there's one thing he's learned from Jason... it's to share *every* honesty. 

(How I love you...) 

Treville shivers. The feeling is entirely mutual, he says, and croons, and looks to his beautiful brother. "You hurt me, yes." 

"I will never be able to apologize enough --" 

Treville cuts that off with a growl -- "*None* of us will ever be able to apologize to *any* of us for all the things we've failed to say, and all the time we've wasted. I just -- I need you to know that a part of me *did* know, with *all* of you," Treville says -- and stops. And reaches for Jason.

(Of course, amant,) he says, and releases Treville --

Treville gives himself a shake, nods, and looks to *all* of his brothers. "I knew. I *knew* that I could've changed how it all went. How it all went with *all* of us, brothers, because -- we all know it's not just how I feel about all of you, and how all of you feel about *me*. Don't we?" 

And Reynard shivers as he looks to Kitos and Laurent -- 

And Kitos smiles *ruefully* at Laurent and Reynard -- 

And Laurent *burns* at *all* of them -- including, to some extent, *Jason*.

"That," Treville says, and nods. "*That*. I could've kept us... kept us from being so *lonely*," Treville says, growling more and shaking his head. "My fears kept me from doing the things I needed to do. My -- my *insecurities*."

"Cheri --" 

"Brother," Treville says, moving to Reynard and biting his *cheek* -- 

"*Merde* --" 

He licks to soothe, to *promise* -- "I won't let that happen again. I won't let -- not any of that, with *any* of you. We're going to do all of this *right*, from now on. We're going to *be* a pack," he says, and looks to all of them again. "Now tell me what *you* all need so we can make this happen as soon as possible." 

Reynard and Kitos share a wide-eyed, *wild*-eyed look -- 

They're smiling *hopefully* -- 

They turn those smiles on Laurent -- 

And Laurent's smile is a little smaller, a little more *curious*, but it's still *there* -- 

And then *he* turns to Jason and -- hums. 

"Will you tell us, Ser Jason?" 

"Absolutely," Jason says. "*What* am I telling you? And, please, do *all* of you call me simply Jason." 

Laurent inclines his head. "Then call me Laurent --" 

"And *me* Reynard -- *seulement* Reynard." 

"I will honour this as it is *meant* to be honoured. This I vow," Jason says, and turns back to Laurent. "But...?" 

Laurent's smile is wry. "You've been... sharing with Treville. Silently, in some way. How...?" 

Jason blinks -- and then turns to Kitos. "Please do hit Treville again, Kitos." 

"Happily, mate," Kitos says, and whallops him -- 

"*Hey* -- what was that even *for*?" 

"You haven't bound your *brothers*!" 

"Of *course* I haven't. It -- it -- they never *asked* for that, and it would've been --" 

"Hit him again, please, Kitos." 

Kitos whallops him -- 

"Bloody *hell* --" 

"In brief," Jason says, and speaks to the room, "Treville has the ability to, with a *small*, *shallow* bite, share his *spirit* and *health* and *vitality* with all of you. You need never wonder what he's thinking or feeling, so long as he doesn't learn to put up a truly *vicious* privacy-wall. Which I have no intention of teaching him how to do." 

"*Jason* --" 

Kitos whallops him *again* -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

Laurent clears his throat -- 

They all come to attention -- including *Jason* -- 

"Jason." 

"Yes, Laurent?" 

"I'm somewhat concerned by the prospect of *several* people sharing in *one* man's health and vitality." 

"Ah, this is understandable. However, *one* of things Treville must be hit for -- repeatedly --" 

Kitos whallops him again -- 

Treville careens off the *desk* this time -- 

"-- is the fact that he, despite being an *earth*-mage, has utterly failed to commune with the *All*-Mother -- that would be his *goddess* -- until this *morning*," Jason continues smoothly. 

The room is silent. 

Full of *obvious* confusion -- 

"Hm. Perhaps I'll just..." Jason coughs. "In any event, now that Treville can reach the All-Mother at any time he wishes -- and vice *versa* -- 'his' health and vitality are, truly, the health and vitality of one of the most powerful deities in the numberless *realms*," Jason says, and raises his teaching eyebrow. 

This time, the silence is thoughtful -- 

Brief -- 

And ends with everyone shoving up their sleeves. 

"Jason, *frère*, this will allow us to speak with -- *be* with -- *both* you and notre meneur?" 

"Ah -- well... no." 

"Why is this?" 

Jason winces -- 

Treville squeezes Jason's shoulder firmly. "Jason's cursed, lads. It's a long story, and he'll *absolutely* tell all of it, but the gist is that he wound up possessed by a couple of different beings thanks to a romantic relationship going about as horribly as one *can* go for a mage, and now, no one can touch him, inside or out, without sharing blood with *him*."

Reynard and Kitos wag their heads judiciously -- 

Laurent *obviously* makes lists of more questions -- 

Reynard pulls his *second* hidden dagger -- 

And, really, this conversation could've gone a *lot* worse. 

A lot more *painfully* in every possible *way* -- but. 

But thoughts like that are, perhaps, for all the information the All-Mother *couldn't* give him about his search for his son, and all the ways She had found to tell him that he was on the right *path* without -- 

Without giving him *specifics*. 

Thoughts like that are for another *time*, when he *has* gathered all his brothers together, all together as they always *should've* been -- 

(Oh, yes, amant,) Jason says, and his eyes -- his *self* -- *burns* in Treville's spirit despite the fact that he's drinking from *Laurent* in this moment. (You will not ever be alone again. Not even in the coldest, darkest reaches of your spirit...) 

Jason --

(Soon, brother. Soon *all* of us will hunt.) 

And that -- 

That lets Treville breathe in ways he hadn't been -- 

In ways he hadn't been for *years*, and -- 

"You're looking a little *thirsty* over there, Fearless! Are you *sure* we should be letting you at fox-face without any kind of chaperon?" 

Treville snaps at the air -- and *yanks* Kitos close by the beard -- 

"Bloody buggering -- *watch* that --" 

"Only when you want me to, brother," he says, pulling Kitos's massive, hairy arm to his lips and biting -- 

*Suckling* -- 

Lapping *exactly* like the hound he *is* -- 

To the beautiful sounds of his brothers' laughter.

end.


End file.
